The Voice Inside
by jjjhexfury
Summary: Ten years after the events of Avengers: Endgame, a teenaged Morgan Stark believes that her father has set up an elaborate series of clues leading her to an unknown outcome. She enlists the help of lifelong friends and her father's former mentees Harley Keener and Peter Parker to help her on her quest. Can she convince them this is all real, or is it in her head?
1. Chapter 1 - The Toy

Somewhere in a publicly undisclosed location, though those within the inner circle would know it to be a five acre property in upstate New York, a seemingly simple, yet elegant cabin was situated near a placid pond, concealed by foliage and a winding road. Originally intended as a quaint summer home, the events of Thanos' Decimation had rendered it quickly anything but. In a time of hopelessness and shocking upheaval, it was now to be a place of solace and permanence. The plans were changed. The home had two basement levels built beneath its foundation, and all important items were relocated to the property. Soon, a replication of what once was now existed on a smaller scale; the faint resemblance of normalcy. That's where the Starks made their home.

Despite being lived in fully for over a year, Tony had not yet visited the garage his wife Pepper had designed for him. There were times he pondered going within, but he knew that in so doing, he would be stepping into the past, which contained nothing but pain, loss, and failure. Today would be the first day he braved it. Taking a deep breath, he twisted the knob and entered. His A.I. assistant, Friday, sensing his presence, automatically flicked on the lights. Just as he expected, she had arranged the room to look just like his workshop in his now-destroyed Malibu abode… give or take the odd cardboard box labelled "Christmas" or "books" stacked in the corner. A robotic assistant, which he had derisively named DUM-E for its continued malfunctions, flicked to life and looked expectantly at his former master with a hopeful whir of its servos.

"You're not out of the woods yet, pal, don't get too excited," Tony commented as he passed it.

He approached his work bench, tossing down the plastic-encased action figure he had been holding. He gave a slight snort, shaking his head. After all this time, this was the reason he was finally going back to work. He took a seat and grabbed scissors, struggling to free the figure from its plastic prison. Why did they make these things so damn hard to open? Finally, he was able to pry the plastic apart, taking out the toy from within and holding it in his palm. The narrow, rectangular eyes of a suit he once constructed and wore stared back at him, seeming to mock him. It was designed to look like the Mark VII, the suit he had operated during the Battle of New York eight years previous. These were simpler times. Back when things were…back when everyone…

Feeling emotions start to rise up, Tony blinked, shaking his head and calling out, "Friday, it's too quiet. Play something."

"Gotcha, boss," she replied immediately. Suddenly, a rhythmic piano began to fill the room. Tony squinted, not recognizing the melody at first. His face fell as soon as Gilbert O'Sullivan's voice began to croon,

_"In a little while from now,_  
_If I'm not feeling any less sour,_  
_I promise myself to treat myself,_  
_And visit a nearby tower,_  
_And climbing to the top,_  
_Will throw myself off—"_

"Hey, hey, hey! Whoa! Stop!"

Friday obeyed. The music ceased.

"Is that your idea of a joke?" he asked incredulously.

"You said to play somethin', boss!" she countered.

Tony rubbed an exasperated hand over his face. "Play something _I'd_ listen to. Please? Something that's also not laden in dramatic irony. That'd be swell."

The opening chords of AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long," began to play. "That's better," Tony called out. "Safe, but better."

Now accompanied by his music of choice, Tony set to work, examining the toy and grabbing a screwdriver and his glasses. He made Friday increase the volume, feeling the bass surge through him as he worked. Though far from the engineering he was used to performing, this felt like a safe re-entry to a past version of himself he had thought to be long gone. So loud was the music that he barely noticed what seemed like a slight murmur behind him.

He spun in his chair, seeing Pepper standing in the doorway, amused but with her arms folded tight across her chest sternly. "Friday, cut the tunes," he said.

"I _said_," Pepper began, "I _just_ put Morgan down for a nap." She entered the room a few paces and looked around her. "These walls aren't soundproof like your old shop, you know. Though I probably should have accounted for that."

"Sorry," he replied sheepishly. His wife gave him a pointed look, which communicated, _I told you so. I told you you'd be back_. He merely shook his head in concession, giving a small shrug. In so doing, Pepper saw the action figure in his left hand. She squinted in confusion.

"Ah," he said, taking note of her unspoken question. "Picked this up in town this morning. That little thrift shop run by the creepy guy."

"Mr. Edwards?" she asked. "Stop, he's sweet!"

"He's creepy. But, the man knows how to run a business. Full of old relics that nobody cares about anymore," he said, holding the action figure of himself aloft.

Pepper waved his self-deprecating comment off and took the toy from him. "This is an old one," she said. "What model?"

"The seven," he replied. "New York got destroyed and the toy manufacturers were sure quick to capitalize, weren't they? Press the arc reactor."

Pepper did so, and a tinny, high-pitched "I am Iron Man!" emerged. She shared a disgusted look at Tony. "Who's voice is that?" she said.

"Not a clue," he said taking it back from her. He pushed the blue reactor button again, making the toy cry out, "Avengers, assemble!" "That's not even my line!" he scoffed. "So! I thought I'd rectify the problem— give it an upgrade."

Pepper narrowed her eyes. "So, what, you're Geppetto now?"

"I dunno," Tony shrugged. "For Morgan? But I'm not giving her a toy with somebody else's voice in there! Then it'll be a whole _thing_, she'll imprint on some random voice actor, leading to a whole, 'You're not my real dad,' phase when she gets to her angsty teen years…"

"I'm sorry," Pepper cut him off with a raised hand. "Are you telling me that you're putting your voice into a doll of yourself… for your daughter?" When he only blinked at her in response, she narrowed her eyes and said, "Now see—_that's_ what I would define as creepy."

"Hey, creep 'em out while they're young. She'll be utterly unfazed by the time she gets to be our age."

She rolled her eyes, but smiled, kissing her incorrigible husband on the forehead. She murmured, "Fine. Play with your toys. But don't forget, you're on for dinner tonight!" He watched her as she left, calling out over her shoulder upon her exit, "And keep it down, or you're going to be on for middle-of-the-night-Morgan duty as well!"

He gave a small smirk, then returned to his work, this time in silence. Removing the tiny metal speaker, he tossed it aside. It would be exceedingly simple to insert his own voice. He couldn't wait to see the look on Morgan's face when she pressed the arc reactor button and heard his own voice emerging from it.

The only question was…what would he have it tell her?

* * *

Thirteen years had rendered a few significant changes to this little cabin by the pond. It began when three inhabitants became two. After that, belongings were gone through, assessed, and moved. The garage had been all but entirely gutted, now solely containing boxes full of echoes of the past no one had ever quite been ready to unpack. A hundred or so yards from the house, there once stood a small playhouse for Morgan when she was small. In its place now stood a shed. This is where the contents of the garage now lived, as well as where a now fourteen-year old Morgan spent most of her time.

That was where she was now, reclined in a swivel chair at her father's old bench. Friday was blaring Pat Benataur's "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" at alarmingly high decibels. Harmful? Probably, but it was how she best worked…though she wasn't exactly getting much work done at the moment. Her physics homework was strewn across the tabletop, with but a few haphazard attempts at solutions scribbled across her graph paper. This wasn't to say that she didn't understand the work by any means. In fact, Midtown's stubborn refusal to allow her to skip ahead to advanced physics courses as a freshman made this introductory class a complete snooze-fest. She could pound through these pointless equations if she really wanted to, but there were far more important matters on her mind. Her heart had been racing non-stop since being driven back home from school that afternoon with the anticipation of tonight's meeting.

Her hands instinctively found her Iron Man action figure from childhood that she always kept on the bench. Her fingertips traced its outline. It had all started with this simple little toy. After all these years of seeking answers, the thought that finally all would be revealed tonight was more than she could bear. _Please_, she begged to any sentient voice who would listen, _Please let it all go according to plan tonight. I need them both here._

"MORGAAAN!" her mother's voice cut through her silent prayer.

"Friday, stop!" Morgan ordered the house A.I., tossing the action figure into a nearby open box. Pat Benataur's voice cut out mid wail. Morgan spun around, whipping her face with her long, dark hair in the process. "Sorry, mom!" she hastily apologized.

Pepper, who had entered her daughter's workshop to the cacophony of hard rock and Morgan leaning back in a chair with her eyes closed, was irritated. "How_ many_ times?"

"I know!" she said submissively, scrambling to her feet. "I'm sorry!"

"You're going to blow your ears out! Enough!"

"I'm _sorry_," Morgan repeated.

Pepper looked stern for a moment, then her face softened. "I came out to bring you this," she said, handing her a bowl full of rainbow sherbet, "And to say that I'm going to bed." She gave her a concerned glance. "You should too. Is your homework done?"

Morgan opened her mouth to give a steadfast lie, but her mother's single, raised eyebrow told her immediately that it wasn't going to work. She deflated. "No."

"Really?" asked Pepper sarcastically. "I couldn't tell, because you looked so hard at work."

"It's boring," Morgan whined, collapsing back into the swivel chair. "I can do this stuff in my sleep!"

"Well that's interesting," Pepper teased, standing behind her and looking at the blank pages on the table. "Because 'sleeping' was exactly what it looked like you were doing, and yet none of this is completed."

Mouth full of sherbet, Morgan complained, "Can't Peter put in a good word for me? He's an alumni and a benefactor! They'll do whatever he says!"

Pepper squeezed her daughter's shoulder. "You know that's not true. It's the school's rules, sweetie. You're not even through one semester. Get through this, and a whole world of opportunities will open up to you."

"I can do so much more though," Morgan said softly.

"I know you can." Pepper kissed her on the top of her head, then turned to go. "Now finish up and get to bed. Speaking of Peter, don't forget that Happy's picking you up tomorrow after school. We've got to go straight to the reception!"

Morgan's heart dropped into her stomach. "Okay!" she called out in a high voice. She waited for the door to close before she exclaimed, "Shit!" The opening of Parker Industries! Morgan had completely forgotten. Peter had been working closely with her mom over the past few years to develop a branch of Stark Industries all his own. Tomorrow was the day he made the company go public, and she and her mother were expected to be there. She had completely forgot about the preparation involved with an event like that. Would she able to proceed with her plans for the night if things were so hectic back in Manhattan?

"Friday?" she asked, beginning to pace the shed, "Time?"

"It's 11:32 PM, boss."

_Dammit_. Twenty-eight minutes to go. That meant twenty-eight full minutes of non-stop worrying. This needed to work. It had to work.

"UrrrgggGHHHHH!" she groaned, running her hands through her hair in frustration. "Screw it. Call him."

"Boss? It's too early. The decided upon time was midnight."

"I know!" Morgan said, "But I'm too anxious. Just call him. If he doesn't answer, we'll just call back until he does!"

"He'll yell at ya, boss."

"Tough!" Morgan chirped.

"Now calling Harley Keener." Morgan waited as the hologram feed tone sounded. It sounded again. And again. And again…and again. She began to wring her hands nervously. _Come on, come on!_

Finally, a breathless man with short blonde hair that was standing up in every direction from being uncombed answered the feed, his image reflected in the room in life size, though cut off by a desk. From his residence in Tennessee, he stared into his computer's holofeed camera. "You're kidding me, right? We agreed to call at midnight, your time!"

"Told ya," Friday goaded.

"Ah ha!" Morgan shouted triumphantly. "But still you answered!"

Harley sat at his chair, collapsing his head into his hands and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Two. Hours. I had the ability to get two whole hours of sleep before having our call. And yet you deny me an entire half hour!"

"Technically twenty-eight minutes," she grinned. "But come on, wake up! I want to show you my handiwork!"

He let out an exasperated sigh, but finally conceded. "Okay. Show me."

Morgan leapt to her feet and took her place for the reveal she had rehearsed. "Friday, cue fanfare please!" Immediately, Morgan heard the hydraulics of the overhead ceiling lift begin to open up and release. An instrumental melody of triumphant horns began to sound. "Mr. Keener," she said waving jazz hands, "May I present to you…"

The panel opened and lowered a stainless steel pipe rack that contained a suit that was a spitting image of Tony Stark's first completed Iron Man suit, the very one that had given him his massive fame.

"…the Mark III!"


	2. Chapter 2 - The Suit

"Well?" Morgan said with a proud smirk, leaning her arm on the shoulder of the suit. "Whatcha think?"

Harley squinted through his feed. "Very nice!" he remarked. "Excellent craftsmanship assembling the chestplate. Does it fit right?"

"Oh this lil beauty?" She pounded on the shiny red metal with a satisfying_ clunk_ sound."Yes indeedy! Though I'm a little concerned that it still might be a bit big."

"Room for growth," Harley explained. "We want this to fit you for awhile yet. How bout the mask? It still giving you grief?"

"Well," she admitted, "The hinging mechanism is still a bit stiff."

Harley frowned. "Man! That shouldn't still be happening. Here, let Friday remote me in."

"Friday, zoom Harley's feed to 3D rendering, isolate mask," she commanded.

Morgan could see Harley's image reflected the green of his screen showing the actual model breakdown of the suit he had helped design. Pinching his fingers in the air, he was able to manipulate and stretch the rendering to try to assess the issue. If there was anyone who could solve a mechanical problem, it was Harley. At the age of only 19, he had started his own tech and robotics company in his hometown of Rose Hill, Tennessee, where in 2013, her own father had crash landed after a suit malfunction. That's where he met Harley, at that time only a boy with a penchant for engineering. Her dad had served as a mentor to him, leaving him some personalized equipment as a parting gift with which he had used to build his robotics empire.

Harley had been a survivor of the Decimation. Despite the random destruction of half the universe, census results determined that the devastation was particularly cruel to Rose Hill, wiping out over eighty percent of its already sparse population. Even after the departed had been restored to the universe as part of Tony and the Avengers' efforts in 2023, the town's infrastructure had all but been destroyed. As such, his work from a very young age helped rebuild the damage caused. Harley was hailed as not only a hometown hero, but as soon as he organized and launched Kenner Tech, his efforts resulted in an industrial boom in the once-quiet town, rendering it, according to some, "the next Silicon Valley."

Morgan took a seat on top of the work bench, swinging her legs over the edge. This would take awhile, knowing Harley, so she had time to chat idly. "How have the kiddos been since the last time we spoke?" she asked.

Focused almost entirely on his work, Harley said removedly and softly, "The last time we spoke being…yesterday?" He gave a small smile. "They're still doing fine."

"When do you think you can come visit us again?" she asked. "They're getting so big!"

"Well…I don't know if I have the time to get away. We've got some pretty big projects coming up." His eyes gleamed as he teased, "And if I keep doing pro bono work for the likes of you…"

"Hey!" she protested. "Your payment is my company! I'm a delight!"

"Yeah…a delight who's not helping me at all right now." He glanced over to her. "What sort of screws did you use?"

"The gold alloy ones."

"The 9mm?"

"No, the 14."

Harley scoffed, "Well _that's_ your problem! These are itty bitty parts. If you're using screws that are too big, of course it's gonna jam!"

"Ah," Morgan protested, grabbing her headlamp. "But I have to use the 14mm, remember? See, look," she said, tapping one of the tiny screws with the metal end of a flathead screwdriver to show him. "Remember what happened in Test Flight 1?"

"How could I forget?" Harley said in monotone.

"The faceplate was sucked right off my head when picking up speeds at higher elevations! The 9mms are too short."

Harley paused, considering this. "Dammit, you're right," he conceded. He shifted is position to pull up a second screen. Typing wildly, he pulled up the three dimensional rendering of Tony's original Mark III plans and zoomed in on his face plate, examining it closely. "How did I miss that? That's an error in my modeling, I'm sorry." He pointed a finger out at the source of the issue. "Yep. There." Turning to his holofeed camera, he said to Morgan, "I can mold you another one. Have it shipped out to you in time for next week?"

Morgan winced. That wouldn't work. It had to be operational now. "I mean you _can_," she said, waving him off. "But I mean, for now what's the harm in a sticky hinge for just tonight? It's better than the alternative of it coming straight off during a flight, right?"

Harley hesitated before saying, "You still want to go forward with a full demo test tonight?"

She blinked, almost offended that he was suggesting she not go forward with the demo she had spent months planning. "Why wouldn't I? The suit is totally ready. Save, that is, one _slight_ modification that I'm having Peter bring with him!"

Again, Harley looked pained to let her down as he said, "Morg'…you don't actually think he's coming, do you?"

Those words hit Morgan like a freight train. For as long as she could remember, Harley and Peter had been like brothers to her. Harley could only visit the house once a summer for up to a week, but their holofeed calls were constant. Peter, on the other hand, had become increasingly distant as the years passed. For awhile, he would be by every month, and together he, Morgan, and Harley via the holofeed would conspire, advise, build, and simply be with one another. But in the past two years particularly, Peter had been consistently rescheduling with Morgan, arranging rainchecks that never ultimately came to fruition.

She wore an unfazed smile as she said bravely, "He's coming. He has to! I told him he has to bring the new part I ordered! I figure that if he actually is charged with an errand, he'll _have_ to deliver."

Harley snorted, "I wouldn't hold your breath on that one. He's been real flaky lately, errand or otherwise."

Again, Morgan gulped. Now that she realized that this was the night before his very stressful company opening, the chances were even less likely that he would make an appearance tonight. "He's busy," she squeaked out. "I mean, between the company and being Spider-Man…that's a lot of work."

Harley narrowed his eyes. "Sure," he said, unconvinced. "All I'm sayin' is, it's already 12:08. And there's no Peter in sight."

"He'll be here," she said, though this assertion was mostly spoken to herself.

"And by the way, what 'part' is this that you're talking about? You never told me about a new part!"

"It's a surprise!" she said with a nonchalant shrug.

"It's for _this_ suit?" he asked. When she nodded, he replied, "Morg', what you've got here is a mint, perfect replica, and, most importantly, functional Mark III suit. I don't know, I just think that adding to it might…mess with its integrity?"

"Harley," she protested, "This was never about making another museum piece to put away in a box somewhere."

"Then what was it for?" he asked. "You're going to…what, fight crime? Take care of an international crisis between homeroom and third period?"

"Never stopped Peter."

Harley sighed in exasperation. "Peter's situation is different and you know it."

Morgan tightened her jaw. It was everything she could do to keep from snapping at him. It wasn't just Harley, it was reactions like these from everyone that drove her to the brink of madness sometimes. To a certain extent, being born with the name Stark prevented one from ever truly having a normal life right from the start. But particularly when your family is ejected into a narrative of intergalactic tragedy after your father pays the ultimate price for the sake of all living things, normalcy soars out the window faster than a quantum jump. Tony Stark wasn't the rowdy billionaire anymore. He wasn't even Iron Man. When his name was spoken, he was hailed as a reverent martyr. Morgan felt that weight every day of her life in even the smallest interactions. She was treated like a fragile artifact: Push her too hard and she'll break. Mention her dad and she'll break. Overexertion, and she'll break. All she ever craved was a challenge she could never attain.

"I wanted to prove that I _could_," she told Harley somberly. "When I found Dad's plans…I don't know, I just…I knew I had to try. If I could do what he did," she said, motioning to her suit, "And I clearly _have_, then it told me I could do anything I wanted." She shrugged again and looked back at her friend. "What if I want to make it my own now?"

Harley nodded slowly, and thought about what he was going to say next. At last, he began with, "I just think that maybe the best way to proceed is to—"

Just then, a slight thud sounded from the ceiling above her. Morgan's face lit up. _He came! He really came!_ "Peter!" she cried, racing outside to greet him. Now alone in the workshop, Harley crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Offff course," he huffed.

A few moments later, a near-giddy Morgan burst through the door, eagerly chattering away without pausing for a breath, "I thought that maybe because of the opening you wouldn't be here but then I thought 'I asked him for my part, he's _got_ to bring my part,' and then we were worried because you were late but I knew you'd come and then I heard you on the roof and then I—"

Spider-Man followed after her, his blue and red suit glimmering beneath the overhead lights as he dragged behind him a large, heavy steel crate slathered in warning labels that he was dragging by a web extended from his right wrist. With a quick flicker, his nanotech suit went into operation to retract his mask, revealing Peter's face. Only slightly out of breath, his eyes instantly met Harley through the holofeed, who was presently delivering a sardonic slow-clap. Once he stopped, he said, "Hey prodigal son. How's it hangin'?"

"Yeah, great to see you too, Harley," Peter said with narrowed eyes. He released the web on the case and then put his hands out to his side. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yeah! Fashionably late, as ever."

Peter cocked his head to the side, clearly not pleased with this instant attack. "Been real busy, man."

"Oh sure. Been hearing all about it on the news. Would have liked to have heard it right from the source, but seeing as we don't see much of you around here anymore…" Harley's voice trailed.

Morgan was frozen in place, watching this exchange of passive aggressive pleasantries. She had succeeded in bringing her friends together after such a long time apart, but this tension was not something she anticipated. It needed to end if the evening was to go any way as she had planned. She gave Peter a quick side hug to ease tensions, saying, "It doesn't matter. Better late than never!" She then sidestepped him to further push the crate towards the center of the room. Peter soon followed when he saw her struggling with it, and even just the minimal amount of force he applied in pushing the box made the entire thing feel light as a feather to Morgan.

"Yeah, what's in this thing?" he said as they pushed. "It was all the way out on a freight shipping dock on Staten Island in a secure facility!"

Morgan laughed nervously. "Really? Go figure," she lied.

"What is it and…_what is this_?!" Peter asked, standing up straight and freezing in place, eyes wide at her Mark III.

She beamed. "You like it? Harley and I built it."

Peter was stunned, glancing between them. "You guys _built_ this?" He circled the suit, admiring it from all angles.

His awe made Morgan surge with pride. "Yep!" she chirped. "Fully functional!"

"Fully?" Peter asked, looking to Harley. With a furrowed brow, Peter looked back at Morgan. "And…you've actually…?"

"Yeah!" she grinned. "We've taken it out on a few tests. Works like a charm!"

Peter was still in shock. "Does…does your mom know about all of this?"

"Absolutely not, are you kidding?" she scoffed. "If my mom knew about this, she would go bazerk!" She then grew very somber and moved close to Peter. "You've got to promise me you won't tell her!"

He seemed hesitant, but in making eye contact with Harley, he finally said, "I…won't, but…I guess I don't totally understand what you expect to do with this. Is it really safe to be operating a sensitive machine like this without anyone noticing?"

"She's been with me," Harley defended her. "We've only ever run test flights when I've been on the feed."

Peter's eyes got even wider. "You've _flown_?!" he cried. He motioned to the steel crate. "You mean to tell me that you've been airborne, all without this vitally important piece of equipment that you insisted I haul all the way over here tonight? How is that safe?"

"Peter, it's okay!" Morgan reassured him. "That part isn't for flying!"

"Then what's it for?"

Morgan paused here. Neither Peter nor Harley knew what was inside the crate. She originally intended on being honest with them both, but now, given Peter's unexpected worrying, she thought doing so might detract from the real reason she had called them here. So, she shrugged it off. "It's not important," she lied.

"Morgan, I had to knock out a hoard of super intense mob dudes just to get this to you. What's in the crate?"

"Really, it's nothing!"

Peter's face suddenly grew very serious, communicating one final opportunity for her to tell the truth. _Last chance_. Morgan's eyes darted between his, but she remained silent. He blinked. "Karen?" he said solemnly to his own A.I. "Tell me the contents of that crate."

Morgan's heart dropped. This was it. Secret out. Sure enough, Karen dutifully read out, "The box contains a fully operational HJ-6895 long range missile, complete with metallic shoulder mount for armored suits."

"WHAT?!" Harley roared. "Morgan! Where the hell did you get a WMD?!"

"I can explain…" Morgan said, putting her hands up.

Peter's face was white as a sheet. He placed a hand over his agape mouth as he muttered, "I dropped that box on the way here. Not once. Not twice. _Many_ times." He then glared at Harley. "Did you know?!"

"OF COURSE I DIDN'T KNOW!" Harley cried. "Who orders a fourteen year-old a weapon of mass destruction!?" He then sent a fiery glare to a now-cowering Morgan. "Explain," was all he said.

She gulped. "So," she began, twisting one of her rings around her finger nervously. "You know how…how I can kinda hack computers?"

Peter closed his eyes mid-eye roll. "Whose?" he asked with a groan.

"…Uncle Rhodey's?"

Both Peter and Harley let out a verbal exhale in exasperation. Peter shook his head. "And I was your delivery man." He then moved for the door. "I gotta tell Pepper."

Desperately, Morgan wedged herself in the doorway, blocking him. "Come on now, don't do this! Okay…I admit the missile was a bad call."

"Oh ya think?!" he cried. "Why on _earth_ would you need a missile?!"

Morgan's jaw opened and closed rapidly as she searched for the right words. Finally, she settled on, "All I'm saying is…why does he get to have one, but I don't?"

"BECAUSE HE'S AN AIR FORCE VETERAN, MORGAN!" Peter shouted.

"Look, Morg'," Harley said calmly. "I get you want to differentiate your suit, but this…this is not the way." He folded his hands and brought them pensively up to his face. After a moment, he said, "Keep the weapon there. I've got a ballistics expert that is pretty close by you guys that I outsource to. I can have him pick it up tomorrow and return it to Rhodey. His credentials will make it seem like it was just a simple mix up. Nobody has to know, Morg'."

She was inwardly crestfallen and embarrassed, but she gave an understanding nod. "Thanks," she said weakly.

Harley continued, "Now, nobody touch the missile, got it? Pete?" Harley asked. "Please tell me I misheard you when you said you dropped the box."

"You did not," Peter replied stoically.

"No more than three times, I hope?"

"Six." He paused, briefly counting on his gloved fingers. "Seven," he corrected.

Harley paused, then repeated even more emphatically, "_Nobody touch the missile_!"

Noting Morgan's dismayed reaction, Harley felt sympathy for his young friend. Often labelled a pushover when it came to kids by his other family members, he hated to see her disappointed. He took a moment to think, and amidst the silence, Morgan looked up and clocked that he was in a moment of deep thought. "What?" she asked.

Slowly, he said, "Pete, did I hear Karen say that there was a shoulder mount in there?"

"Yes," both Peter and Morgan answered at once. Morgan's lips curled into a smile, reading Harley's mind. "Why?"

"Given that you guys are _careful_," he said warningly, "My thoughts are…why waste a perfectly good part?"

Morgan was ecstatic. "You mean it?!"

"Oh no, we're still definitely returning the missile, but perhaps I can get you a more appropriate weapon that will fit the mount. In the meantime, I can guide you guys in its installation so that this night wasn't a _complete_ waste of all of our time."

"Oh thank you, Harley!" Morgan said, ignoring his dig and bouncing in excitement. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Well, let's see if it actually works first." His eyes flicked in judgement to Peter, who had remained silent during this decision. "How 'bout you, Pete? You still with us, or should you probably get going?"

Peter raised his eyebrows to the challenge. "I mean, yes, I definitely _should_ be going, but at this point I'm invested. I want to see what's inside that box." He gave Morgan a playful shove. "And also to make sure this one doesn't blow herself up."

Peter and Morgan then bent over the crate while Harley zoomed his feed in to see it better. The crate was firmly locked, and for good reason, given what was inside. Placing his fingertips of his right hand on the lid, Morgan saw the muscles in his arm tense when his sticking ability fused to the metal. "I'm gonna need you to get down on the ground and hold onto the bottom with all you've got," Peter told Morgan, "Otherwise I'm just gonna end up chucking this thing across the room."

Morgan silently obeyed, lowering herself down in a crouch and clutching the crate firmly by its sides. "You got it?" Peter asked.

"I mean, we'll see," remarked Morgan. "You might end up chucking me right along with it."

"Careful now," Harley said. "Pete, just give it a quick pop, okay? I'm gonna count you guys down."

Morgan took a deep breath and tensed her arms with all her might.

"3…2…1!"

With a sharp move of Peter's shoulder and a loud clinking noise, they had successfully broken through the lock. Morgan released her hold and scurried back to Peter's side to look at what precisely she had ordered. She frowned. Inside, standing straight up but surrounded by foam padding, was a rocket, its cylindrical barrel no wider that the diameter of a tennis ball.

"_That's_ an HJ-6895?" she scoffed. "What a ripoff."

"Aww," Peter said. "It's actually kinda cute." He chided Morgan, "So do you launch it with baking soda, or is it the ol' Coke and Mentos trick?"

"Don't be fooled, guys," Harley said. "That sucker is small but mighty. An HJ model is highly advanced and highly sensitive and has incredible range. There's enough explosives in its warhead to sink an entire cargo ship."

"So we move delicately, then," Peter said, gingerly procuring a silver, square hunk of metal from a cut out piece of foam next to the missile. "Is this the mount?" he asked, showing the piece to Harley.

"Yep," he confirmed. "Send me a rendering of it so I can figure out what we're gonna need to install it."

"Friday," Morgan commanded. "Transfer a 3D rendering of the mount to Harley's feed, please."

"Gotcha, boss," she confirmed. Harley soon received the file and began examining it closely. While he worked, Peter collapsed his nano suit entirely, revealing that he was sporting a tuxedo beneath.

Morgan immediately jumped on the opportunity to tease. "Whoa-ho-ho! Hey Fancy Pants!"

Harley looked up. Raising his eyebrows, he added, "I thought the wedding was in April, pal."

Peter put up his hands defensively. "_Ha ha ha_. Look, I came here straight from benefit and didn't have time to change. I was already late as is."

"Well, you might wanna shed the tails at the very least, Mr. Bond," said Harley. "It looks like we're going to have to solder this guy onto the right shoulder."

Peter pursed his lips and took off his coat, tossing in onto Morgan's chair. "So…you swung all the way from Manhattan in _that_?" she asked him as he rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows.

"Hey, I never said it was comfortable!"

"Okay," Harley said, clapping his hands together once and rubbing them with anticipation. "This shouldn't be too hard, but it's a bit of a pain how many tools we need. So I'm going to need you both to listen carefully…" For the next half hour, Harley dictated them on how to install the piece. They'd drill, bolt, solder, disagree, bicker, then but always ultimately get back on track with a quick compromise. Morgan took a moment to look between her two friends. She clocked a genuine smile from Peter over a sassy comment from Harley that he delivered right back. Her heart broke a bit—this was how it used to be all the time. This was how she thought things would always be. Change was inevitable, especially as both men grew into entrepreneurs and steadily developed their own families. But for just a moment, when focused on a single, simple task, there was no bitterness or resentment. There was only the way things used to be.

When they were done, Peter and Morgan stepped back to admire their handiwork.

"Not bad," sounded Harley. "We can paint it to match the suit later, Morgan."

Morgan waited for a response from Peter, but when none came, she turned to look at him. She paused when she saw that he was frozen in place, his eyes reflecting pain as he stared at the Mark III before him. Gently, he gave him a nudge. "Well? Whatcha think?"

Peter gave a soft smile, shaking himself back to reality. "It's truly incredible. It looks just like the real thing." He glanced between Morgan and Harley. "How long did it take you?"

"Four months," she said proudly.

"You did all of this in four months?" he asked in astonishment. "That's amazing!"

"You know," growled Harley from the holofeed, his tone causing Morgan's stomach to flip over, "It could have gone even faster if you were here. Like _ever_. Like you were supposed to."

As expected, Peter immediately took the defensive. "Look, man, I love that you've got the time to build all this, and I would love to be able to, but I don't think you're really understanding the chaos that is my life right now."

"Yeah, must be real hard on top of that '30 Under 30' list, huh?" Harley spat derisively.

"Uh…guys?" Morgan tried to interject.

Peter gave an incredulous laugh. "Is that the problem, Harley? If the '30 Under 30' deal is making you jealous, there's really no need—there's always next year!" He then tapped a finger on his chin, feigning pensiveness as he goaded, "Oh wait…"

This dig at the now 31-year old Harley came off as particularly spiteful, and he was quick to retaliate in anger. "You know what? Screw you, Parker! If you hadn't died, you'd be older than me and you damn well know it!"

"Stop it!" Morgan shouted at them. "You guys are being immature idiots!"

But Harley wasn't paying her any attention. His next jab was calculating and harsh. "In fact I wonder if you'd have half the things you have today if you didn't milk the fact that you died for all it's worth. You basically got a five year sleep, and then got to come back like it was _nothing_. The people left behind went through a five year hell. You don't see me in the tabloids. You don't get to hear about the people left behind. We lost everything. You lost _nothing_."

Silence descended between them after the fallout of Harley's words. His face was still twisted in anger, but when Morgan looked to Peter, he looked utterly shell-shocked. She saw his eyes flick a brief glance towards the Mark III. "I lost nothing, huh?" he said softly. After another moment in silence, he took a deep breath and looked to Morgan. "Well, I brought you your nuclear missile," he said jokingly, though his tone sounded utterly defeated. With a slight raise of his shoulders, his nano suit trickled over his tux, with only his head remaining uncovered. "I think you two have got things under control and can take it from here. I really should be going—"

"No!" Morgan blurted, her heart beginning to pound. _No, no, NO!_ This was all wrong! Peter couldn't leave yet! She hadn't even been able to get to the reason why she had arranged for the three of them to gather together in the first place! "Please don't go," she pleaded.

"Yeah that's right," Harley said. "Leave again. As usual."

Ignoring him, Peter laid a hand on Morgan's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Morgan, but I've got a lot to prepare for tomorrow, and it's already really late. I'll see you tomorrow at the reception, though—"

She softened her voice to an urgent whisper as she grabbed his hands desperately. "Please. Please stay."

"Let him go, Morg'," Harley called out. "He was never planning to be here long anyway."

"Please just STOP!" she shouted, causing both men to jump. "Just _listen_ to me!" she said in a calmer voice. Looking between them, she noticed that she had their complete attention, albeit through extremely worried and borderline fearful expressions. She took a deep breath. "This was ploy. I just used it to get you here. To get us all here in one place."

Harley squinted. "…so you…_didn't_ mean to order the missile then?"

"OF COURSE I MEANT TO ORDER THE MISSILE! I THOUGHT THE MISSILE WAS COOL!" Morgan snapped. She collected herself again, "I…I need you here because I found something. And I don't know what it all means, but it's scary, and it's big, and you're the only two people I trust to help me with it."

Peter's expression looked pained with empathy as he squeezed her arm reassuringly. "Whatever it is, we've got your back."

"Yeah, Morg'," Harley's voice sounded from behind them. "What's going on?"

She bit her lip. Now was the moment she had been rehearsing for the better part of a year now. What she was about to say would be explosive, possibly catastrophic to their relationship with her. But then again, she had been putting this off for ages. She needed to know once and for all if what she had found was real. With another deep breath, she broke away from Peter, grabbing the Iron Man action figure from the open box she had tossed him into when her mother had entered earlier.

She held it up. "This," she said, "Is the real reason I called you here." The men looked bewildered, so she bravely moved her index finger to the blue arc reactor button and pressed it.

A tinny guitar riff sounded to the tune, "_I am Iron Man_."

Peter and Harley looked even more confused. "No," she said, embarrassed. "That's not it." She pushed it again. Her father's voice sounded from inside. "I probably should take this opportunity to tell you to listen to your mother. It's generally good advice."

"Dammit!" she exclaimed, lowering the doll into her hands and pushing the button forcefully through the messages Tony had looped, searching for the right one. Peter turned towards the holofeed to share a concerned glance with Harley.

Finally, "There!" Morgan exclaimed, once again holding the toy back out towards them upon finally finding the message she wanted to show them.

In a tone not matching that of his other recordings, Tony said somberly, "Morgan, remember when it's darkest to listen to the voice inside your head above all else. That's where you'll find me. Find me where it all started."

"Guys," Morgan said, her voice quaking with anticipation, "I think my dad left me something."


	3. Chapter 3 - The Clues

"I know it sounds crazy." Morgan's words began to come out faster and faster as she noticed that neither Peter nor Harley was reacting the way in which she had hoped. She had hoped for shock. She had hoped to be riddled with questions. She had hoped for any sort of visible reaction at all. Instead, she got blank faces. They were listening to her, but their expressions were utterly unreadable. "I've had this toy for forever, right?" she ranted. "And Dad altered the voice box because he thought it was creepy that a bad voice actor was in there! Well I remember the day before he left to rejoin the Avengers, I lost the toy. I looked everywhere, but it was _gone_. I was crying and crying, and then all of a sudden, he came up from the basement and—there it was! He told me not to lose it again…and I didn't. It's been here the whole time. Well fast forward to a couple of years ago, I'm going through my things and I find it on my shelves! I pushed the button…and that's what it said! 'Find me where it all started!' I never remembered hearing that before!"

She paused for a response from her friends, but they were still frozen. Irked at this, she continued even faster, "I thought, 'It's probably nothing,' right? Maybe it's just a meaningful phrase! But then, I remembered how he had brought back the toy right before he left. I always kept that toy with me back then. I wouldn't have just tossed it away somewhere! He must have taken it and put that message in there for me to find!"

Pause. Silence. She sighed and kept going. "I know what you're thinking—a bit of a stretch. But then I got to thinking, 'What if there's something to that?' 'Find me where it all started…' Well naturally that would have to be the Mark I, right? But all the original Iron Man suits were destroyed by Aldrich Killian, right? WRONG!" She raced to the far side of the shed, using a stool as a step ladder as she procured a beat up cardboard box. Stepping down, he reached inside, procuring a rusted iron gauntlet. "This is all that remains of the original Mark I he built in Afghanistan. He recovered only this. I found it in the garage."

Stepping closer to Peter and Harley's feed, she reached inside, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper the size of a business card from within. On it was written four words in her father's handwriting. She read it aloud: "Stark - original, new, grand." She looked up expectantly at her friends, but they were still expressionless. "Well?" she said, impatiently.

Harley was the first to finally speak, "Morg'…" he began in a low voice that caused her heart to sink. "It sounds like a slogan to me. A bad one, but still…"

Peter tried to be a bit more hopeful. "Did you find anything else?"

She gulped. "Well…no, but this!" she said, triumphantly waving the paper, "This has to be something! Maybe it's a code, or a clue…or maybe if we rearrange the letters…" She looked up from the words to gauge their reactions. Peter's eyes radiated sympathy, which made her feel utterly destroyed. "…you think I'm making it up, don't you?"

"No," Peter said gently. "I believe that you believe you found something—"

Her sadness turned to anger at this. "So you're basically telling me that you're not going to help me, is that it?" she snapped.

Harley interjected, "Morg', that's not what we're—"

"What if he left something for me to find years ago? And I've been sleeping on it this entire time? What if it's something for you as well?"

Peter held up a hand, "Morgan, calm down."

"No!" she spat. "All you two want to do is ignore this so you can go back to your self-obsessed lives, instead of taking the time with someone asking for help!"

Peter was taken aback by her words, standing up straight with his jaw tight. "Karen, transfer Friday's holofeed to a private call, please." His hood instantly went up, and the white eyes of his mask reflected green just as the shop's holofeed went down, indicating that Peter and Harley were now talking solely among themselves. Peter walked out of the room, taking the call with him and out of Morgan's earshot.

She was crestfallen. She'd blown it. Her one chance to finally solve a problem that had kept her awake for months now, and it was all over as soon as it had begun. She wasn't making this up. These clues _had_ to be something…right?

Morgan paced the room, biting her thumb nail as she watched Peter standing alone in the yard. What were they saying about her? With Friday's feed solely within the Spider-Man suit, she couldn't use her to eavesdrop. There was one alternative she could think of, however. Racing to a junk drawer, Morgan hastily rooted around until finding an earpiece that she could use to remote in to their call. Given that she remained utterly silent, she could listen in unnoticed. Praying it had enough charge left it in, she pushed the red button on the side until it illuminated, inserting it into her ear.

The first thing she heard was the end of a sentence uttered by Peter. "—said she's asking for help."

Harley replied with a snort. "Yeah, that's exactly what I think's going on. It's a desperate cry for help."

Morgan bristled at this. Peter, however, was solemn. "God, I should have been here more," he muttered sadly.

"Oh, you think?" Harley spat. "What clued you in? The fact that instead of, oh I don't know, living her life, focusing on her future, she's invented some sort of scavenger hunt from beyond the grave?"

"What are you talking about?" Peter countered. "You enabled this to happen! Letting her rebuild the Mark III? _Test flights_?! Are you out of your mind?"

"The kid wants to build? I build!" Harley was silent for a moment, then added, "Plus why the hell would I pass up an opportunity to build the Mark III from scratch?! From Tony's original plans?"

"Because you recognized that it was a dangerous thing keeping her tied to the past?" Peter offered. "Because she's allowing herself to believe this is real?" He took a moment, then said with concern, "…You don't actually believe this is real, do you?"

"Of course not!" Harley cried. "What do you take me for?"

Morgan squeezed her eyes shut. This couldn't be happening. This was all wrong.

"We gotta stop this. It's not healthy" Peter was now saying. He repeated, "I really shoulda been here."

"Too little too late, my friend!" snapped Harley.

"I acknowledged that I was wrong, okay? I've been a little busy."

"Yeah? So have I. Don't forget we've walked the same road. 'Cept try doing what I did on top of raising two kids. Yet I still always manage to make these meetings!" Harley scoffed in disbelief. "God, never have a kid, Parker. I'd pay to see you juggle it all."

"Yeah? Touche, pal," countered Peter. "But what I lack in nap times and playdates I've more than made up for in cleaning up the streets of New York City, but I guess that's just me."

"Yeah it is just you! Sorry godlike powers and world fame are such burdens to you."

It took everything Morgan had to not cry out at them to stop, lest she give herself away. But they were skirting around a tension that had been developing slowly over the years she had known them. She had always noted it quietly in snide remarks Harley would make to Peter or say about Peter to only her, but otherwise went unspoken.

Peter had had enough. "That's what it's always been about, right? You can't stand that, what, I crawl up walls? Dress up in tights? The most impressive tech genius of his generation, and you could be doing the same thing, buddy! You just built a Mark III! Do it yourself! That's seriously what you've always been jealous about?"

Then came Harley's final breaking point. "I'm jealous that you got his attention!" he shouted. Morgan's mouth fell ajar as she waited for someone to say something. But Peter said nothing. Harley said nothing. It was awkwardly stagnant like that until finally Harley muttered, "Tony _chose_ you, Peter. He sought you out. He just happened to crash land in my backyard. It could have been anyone. All I got was a few hours, some anti-bullying advice, and a shed full of tech from him. That was it. But he saved the universe just to get you back."

Peter's voice was hoarse as he protested, "That's not—"

"It is and _you know it_," Harley insisted. "Look, I don't regret the time I had with him. It changed my life. It gave me what I have today. But if I was as close to him as you were and I dragged his own daughter through the mud like you continuously do?" He let out an exasperated sigh. "_That's_ the thing pisses me off, Pete. No matter how much I do for her and no matter how _little_ you do, she still worships you. All she wants is to be worthy in your eyes, so she gives you chance after chance after chance." Morgan felt her heart break that her obvious actions had caused Harley such pain. "And you know what," he continued, "I'd totally buy the 'I'm too busy' excuse if Morgan wasn't the _only_ thing in your life you are letting fall by the wayside. But investors get the time. Criminals get the time. _WIRED_ gets the time. But Morgan has to bribe you with stolen WMD's in order to get your attention." He took a moment for Peter to offer an explanation, but when he didn't, he forced the answer out of him directly. "You're typically the most responsible guy I know, Pete. What the hell is going on with you, man?"

It took a long time for Peter to offer explanation, but when he did, it came out as though every word pained him. "It's hard for me," he said. "Always has been. Coming here, seeing her. That's why I got you involved after Pepper asked me to come by regularly. I couldn't do it alone. And at first it wasn't quite so bad at the beginning, but as she got older and more curious…and more like him… That's why it was easy for me to lie to everyone and even myself and say that I didn't have a spare moment. It's been ten years and…this makes it hard to move on. And now she's literally following in his footsteps, and letting herself believe…" His voice trailed off. Morgan closed her eyes again. When the grief got particularly bad in the past, had often wished selfishly that someone, _anyone_ else had used the gauntlet to destroy Thanos. Why not Bruce? Why not Thor? Why not Carol? Why did it have to be Dad? Logic and clear thinking would articulate why and ultimately win out, but she nevermore wished that things had ended differently than she did right now — not only for her, but for the still raw, open wounds caused by Tony's absence over a decade later.

Said Peter bleakly again, "I caused this."

"We both did," echoed Harley, in the first statement of agreement they had shared all night. Then, the man who always had the answers said helplessly, "What are we gonna do?"

Peter considered this. Darkly, he said, "You've always been there for her. I haven't. I can be the bad guy."

Harley swiftly shot that idea down. "No way. That would destroy her."

"It's that or we get Pepper involved. That's our only option."

"Or you could just believe me." The words fell instinctively out of Morgan's mouth. The men were dead silent, shocked to learn that she had heard nearly every word they'd shared.

Morgan turned and went to the doorway, where Peter stood alone in the yard, his green-tinted mask eyes wide in alarm staring at her.

"Earpieces," Morgan said, pointing to her ear. "Old tech, but super effective."

Peter's shoulders slumped as he walked back toward the shed. "Karen, transfer holofeed back to Friday." A somber Harley reappeared on the shop's holoscreen as Peter retracted his mask. Morgan looked between them, taking our her earpiece. "Look, I know it sounds crazy. You won't believe how many times I have questioned it myself. But it can't be fake. Dad? At the end there, he thought about _everything_. He always made sure his bases were covered because it's all he had left. He thought enough ahead to make us all a goodbye message. Why couldn't he have left me something?"

The men were silent, unsure of how to proceed. Morgan felt completely desperate. Her voice cracked as she said, "I can do this myself. I don't need either of you to break his code. I could figure it out eventually. I just…" She took a breath to swallow her emotion. "…I wanted you here in case it wasn't real after all. Because if it's not? I don't know what I'm going to do."

She was greeted with yet more silence. At long last, Peter was the first to speak up. "Tell me those words again."

A smile slowly spread across a now tearful Morgan's face. "Stark, original, new, grand," she whispered.

He turned to the screen. "Whatcha think, Harl'?"

Harley furrowed his brow. "'Stark' and 'grand' don't fit. 'Original' and 'new' are opposites. Wait, is 'Stark' separated from the other three words?"

Morgan's heart raced. This was happening. This was finally happening.


	4. Chapter 4 - The Codes

Morgan laid on her back on top of the work bench, tossing a stress ball up in the air and catching it upon its descent over and over. "Grand…grand…Grand…master?" suggested Morgan. "Is that guy even still around?"

"Grandiose?" Harley offered, his hands folded over her eyes as he leaned back in his chair. "The Grand Hotel?"

"Grandson?" said Peter, hanging upside down from the ceiling by a web. That thought sparked something. "Wait!" He dropped down to a crouch on the floor. "Grandfather… Morgan! Your grandfather!"

"Howard?" she asked, sitting up.

"Exactly! What things do you have here that belonged to him?"

Morgan shrugged. "Not a lot. They didn't exactly get along." She scoured the recesses of her mind. _What could it be?_ "Wait!" she exclaimed, leaping to her feet. "We've got a framed photo of him!"

"The one by the sink?" Peter asked. Morgan was a bit taken aback that he knew exactly where her dad kept this photo, but immediately nodded.

"Let's go get it!" Peter said, triggering his Spider-Man mask to cover his face.

"Wait!" Morgan cried, grabbing his wrist before he could go. "My mom's in there asleep. And those floorboards are real creaky."

"Okay then, _I'll_ go!" Peter replied.

"You sure you know where it is?" asked Harley.

"Yep. The shelves in the corner over the sink. Kitchen's around the back."

"Be careful," Morgan warned. "We can't have her waking up and finding out what we're doing."

Peter chuckled, walking backwards confidently. "I'm the King of Stealth! It's practically in my name! Little known fact, but 'Spider-Man' is actually an acronym, with each letter spelling out all the things I can do. It stands for 'Stealth…' …uh…'Peeeeter?'" His expressive mask eyes widened as he clearly began to improvise. Every word he said accompanied an awkward finger-gun. "…'iiiiiIIII'…'Don't'…'Eat'…'Radishes?'"

Harley was unamused. "Might I remind you that it is two in the morning?"

"Yep, good call," Peter chirped, giving him a quick salute as he slung a web behind him. It made contact with the cabin's roof and whipped him around to the back of the house out of sight. "Be back in a minute!" he called behind him.

* * *

Peter made quick work of the kitchen window screen, popping it off with little effort. Then, he attached his fingertips to the outer glass and slid it all the way over slowly, allowing him enough room to crawl inside.

"Okay, Karen," he whispered to his A.I., "'Stealth' is the name of the game. Get in and get out unnoticed. Piece of cake."

_CLANG!_ A pot clashed off the drying dish rack and onto the floor, disturbed by his foot as he was lowering himself in. Quickly, he grabbed it and froze, awaiting the inevitable sound of Pepper coming to investigate. When that never happened, he placed the pot back in place and took a deep breath. "Yeah! Stealth!" he whispered triumphantly.

He then glanced toward the corner shelves, bracing himself for what he knew awaited him there. Sure enough, the first thing his eyes found was the very reason he knew where the photo of Howard was; it was posed right next to a photo of him and Tony holding an upside down Stark Industries certificate between themselves. He hesitated upon seeing it.

"Peter?" Karen asked. "Is everything alright?"

Oddly enough, whenever Peter saw this image, his mind never went back to the moment in time in which the photo was taken. He remembered instead the first time seeing this memory framed, sitting right where it was presently. It took him back to his first time in this house which was, very tragically, the day of Tony's funeral. Many events of that afternoon were now distant and obscure to him, as it was rife with extremely raw emotions. After the service, Peter had forced himself to meet every person in attendance that day, knowing full well that such a gathering would probably never again happen, nor had it. He finally met Thor and Banner, properly introduced himself to King T'Challa, apologized profusely to Bucky and an equally unamused Sam for having fought them in the past, and finally had a complete conversation with Steve. He left his Aunt May talking to Happy in the living room as he made his way into the kitchen. There he found the boy he had noticed was near his own age, but had been standing apart from the others, standing alone over a plate of hors d'oeuvres.

"Hey man," Peter said with a smile. He introduced himself just as he had been to his heroes. "I'm Peter Parker. Spider-Man."

The boy's eyes went wide. "No way," he exclaimed.

Peter grimaced. "Yeah…I probably should stop telling people that. But I mean, you're here. You're family." He hesitated, not sure that he was entirely clear. "Keep that on the DL," he added.

The boy gave an understanding nod. "It's safe with me," he promised. "I'm Harley."

This was where they met. The two spoke for a long time, sharing their respective pasts and their histories with Tony. Though the details of how they had become close with the man they had both considered their mentor were very different, the overall effect was the same. It was undeniable—he had changed their lives by simply believing in them, and his sudden absence had left a considerable hole inside them.

Peter wasn't prepared for a tiny Morgan in her black dress to race into the kitchen, let alone to come right up to him. She clutched the same Iron Man action figure that, if proven to be true, already had had Tony's secret message within it. The sight caused Peter to freeze. Today was the first time he was aware that Morgan existed at all, and knowing he left behind a young daughter made Tony's loss all the more real. It was a reality he hadn't wanted to face, so he was careful to keep his distance from both her and Pepper.

The little girl was bright eyed and smiled up him, clutching her toy close to her chest. Peter was motionless. Harley stepped in. "Hey there!" he said, grabbing her attention. When she turned to him, he lifted her up to sit on the countertop between them. "I'm Harley," he said kindly. "You must be Morgan!"

"Uh huh!" she said with a nod of her head. "You're Peter," she said looking back to him.

Peter was floored. He stammered, "How, uh…how do you know my name, huh?"

Morgan pawed at her hair, stating matter-of-factly, "You're the boy in the picture."

He shook his head. "What picture?" When Morgan pointed to the shelf Peter now once again stood in front of, it took everything he had to not completely break down. He was framed and placed intentionally. Tony's dad, Tony's mom…_him_. He cleared his throat and asked her, "Did he…tell you about me?"

"Mmmhmm!" Morgan chirped. "You cut a boat in half and Daddy had to save the day."

"I didn't—" Peter protested. He took a deep breath, letting the actual facts of the story go in favor of Tony's version which, in a roundabout way, was true. "Yeah. Yeah he did."

Harley smiled warmly at Morgan, "Your dad did that a lot, huh?" he asked. "He liked saving everybody."

"I know," she said. She then raised her head and looked between the two boys as though sharing a secret. "My mommy said he's not coming home."

Peter and Harley were glued in place, uncertain of how to next proceed. Morgan's eyes flicked patiently between them. She had left the statement open, as though waiting for them to deny that truth. That's when Peter saw Pepper standing in the doorway watching them. She went unseen by the others, as their backs were to her, but she and Peter locked mournful eyes.

Harley blessedly took over like an expert. "That's right, Morg'," he said gently. "But he'll never really be gone forever. No one is as long as long as there's people like me and you and Peter here to remember him."

Pepper wiped away a tear and intervened. "Come here, baby," she cooed, gathering her daughter up in her arms. "Let's leave the boys alone. Come with me." Morgan wrapped her arms around her Mother's neck and held fast to her. Pepper gave a silent, grateful look to the boys, which they returned somberly. She mouthed a silent _thank you_ and turned to go.

Before fully leaving, however, she turned back one last time. "You know he loved you, right? Both of you." They both nodded, but said nothing. She murmured, "You have families, you have lives. But to him, you were his kids too. And by proxy, that makes you mine as well. You always have a home here, okay?" Both boys were overcome, mumbling their gratitude to her. She gave a kind smile. "And besides, I want her to be surrounded by people who knew him so that she…" Her voice broke, so she took a moment before continuing, "Well…exactly as you said, Harley. So that he's never fully gone for good."

"We won't let her forget him," Harley vowed.

"Yeah, if there's anything you need…" Peter added, "Or she needs…"

"I can't exactly babysit from Tennessee," Harley said. "But if she needs a friend," he said, looking to Peter, "We'll be there."

That was the moment the boys agreed to always be there for their stand-in little sister. It was a promise that Harley would keep, and Peter would eventually come to avoid, but it all started in the same place on the very worst day of their lives.

"Peter?" Karen asked again. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Peter said, clearing his throat. "We're good." He reached around the picture of himself to retrieve the photo of Howard Stark. Flipping it over, he pried the tiny metal tabs that held the back of the frame in place. Wiggling it free, he looked inside.

His eyes went wide as he said, "Oh my god."

* * *

As they waited for Peter to return, after what had been far longer than a minute, Morgan stared at Harley. He gave an exhausted yawn, then noticed her gaze. "What?" he asked.

She smiled. "You know that I really appreciate all you've done for me over the years, right?"

He waved the compliment off. "Yeah, you're only saying that because you were spying on us."

She grimaced, "I mean, yeah, that might be why I'm saying it now, but I've always felt that way." She shook her head. "I don't know where I'd be without you."

He gave a small smile. "You'd be right here. Same as before." She opened her mouth to protest, but he countered with, "You said it yourself, Morg'—you can do anything you want to do. I molded you some metal for a suit. You could have figured it out yourself."

She was genuinely touched by the compliment, but before she had a chance to respond, Peter had returned, catapulting into the room unsteadily on one leg. He was panting. "Morgan! I can't—oh my god!"

"What?!" she exclaimed, rushing to him.

He retracted the mask and held up a small sliver of paper. Scrawled across it in the same handwriting was "Morgan: 1215147."

Harley zoomed in on the paper, taking a scan of it and analyzing it on his second screen. He sat back in his chair. "Oh my god…" he exclaimed.

Morgan was shaken to her core. "It's real?" she asked them. "You mean you believe me?"

Harley shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but…yeah. I think you might be onto something, Morg'."

"What is that, a phone number?" Peter asked. "That's seven digits."

"I'm not sure," she said, grabbing the paper from him and looking at it closer.

"What about the other clues?" Harley asked. "This was 'grand,' but we've still got 'new,' 'original,' and 'Stark' to go. I bet these numbers together spell out a code."

"What the hell, Dad?" Morgan asked, directing her question to the sky. "Why did you have to make this so difficult?"

"Whatever he hid," Peter said, "He wanted to make sure not just anyone could stumble upon it."

Harley agreed. "Yeah, and for Tony to do _anything_ analog and not digitally, he must have wanted to ensure that no one who wasn't supposed to find it, did."

"'Original' and 'new…'" Morgan pondered. "The only thing I can think of is the suits."

"Yeah!" Peter said. "Well there you go! 'Original!' You've already found a clue inside the Mark I gauntlet, the _original_ suit!"

Harley gave an uncertain, "eh" sound. "But that was the clue that is determining all of this," he said. "It's gotta be something else." He pondered for a moment. Finally saying, "Wait. What was the last suit Tony built?"

"The Mark LXXXV."

"Eighty-five?" Peter asked incredulously. "He was on fifty the last time I saw him. He seriously built thirty-five suits in just five years?" Morgan nodded with a smile. Each of those thirty-five attempts was a scrapped attempt to restore the galaxy to what it once was. "He truly never stopped building, did he?" Peter asked.

Harley had been typing furiously on his computer. "Morg'? You gave me total access to Tony's hard drive when we were building the III, right?"

"I should have!" she replied.

He searched his files, finally finding what he was looking for. He raised his index finger to open the file, but suddenly stopped.

"What is it?" Morgan asked.

"There's…another suit here. The LXXXVI."

Peter and Morgan shared a shock glance. "Tony had plans for another suit?" asked Peter.

"Open it," Morgan said.

Harley did, and his face lit up. Pinching together all five fingers on his right hand, he grabbed his screen and swiped it over to the holofeed. "Look," was all he said.

What Morgan saw caused her to raise her hands to her head in equal parts glee and disbelief. There, they together found the exact same plans for the LXXXV, only in this rendering, each part was labelled with a number that had no other discernible context. In the top left corner of the plans, just like the clue Peter had found, was the name, "Morgan." They decided to write down the numbers clockwise, as it seemed to be intentionally arranged to be read in a circle.

"1497820," Peter read from a notepad he had scribbled the digits on. "This has to be some sort of password or code or something." He paused. "It's not a date, right?"

"I don't see how," Harley said, his eyes narrowed. "Unless 'original' helps fill in the blanks."

The three together fell silent, pondering what on earth "original" could mean. If "new" referred to Tony's newest suit, it would naturally make sense that its opposite would refer to the oldest. "What about something…something that incited all of this?" asked Harley. "Like his capture in Afghanistan? Obediah Stane?"

Morgan's face suddenly went white. "Oh god, no."

"What?" Peter asked.

Morgan buried her face in her hands. "No, no, no…" she repeated.

"Morgan! Speak!" Harley blurted.

After a moment, removed her hands from her face, balling up her left hand into a fist and holding it over her mouth. "The original arc reactor."

Peter quickly picked up on her meaning and his eyes widened. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Somebody speak actual English words, or I'm hanging up!" Harley insisted.

Morgan gritted her teeth. "Dad put the clue in the original arc reactor." She swept her arm to the side, motioning to the pond outside. "We set the arc reactor adrift in the middle of that pond at his funeral."

Harley's eyes widened. "Shit."

A significant part of the puzzle was presently at the bottom of a deep pond, completely flooded and most likely having destroyed whatever handwritten note of numbers was placed inside.


	5. Chapter 5 - The Song

"There's gotta be something else," Peter tried hopefully. "There's plenty of things that could be 'original.'"

"Name something else original that holds as much significance," Harley challenged in a defeated tone. When Peter had no answer for him, Harley shook his head. "He never thought we would set it adrift. But we would have had no idea there'd be something inside it."

But Morgan was inconsolable. All of this work was for nothing. How was she supposed to crack her dad's code if a full quarter of it was lost forever?

"I can go down there and look," a determined Peter said. "My suit is mostly water resistant. I can try to dive."

"It'll take ages, Peter," Morgan murmured, shaking her head. "Even if you found it, I'm not convinced whatever is inside would still be legible after being down there for ten years." She sighed deeply. "I think I'm gonna call it, guys."

"Excuse me?" Peter said, kneeling beside her. "You were the one who got us all together to make this happen. Now you want to quit?"

She looked at him sorrowfully. "I thought we could crack it. How can we ever hope to find whatever he hid now that such a big part of it is gone forever?"

"We still haven't cracked 'Stark!'" Peter protested, grabbing the notebook he had been recording the numbers on. We'd have three quarters of the code by then. Maybe we can infer the rest!"

"He's right, Morg'," said Harley from behind her. She turned to look at his feed. He looked totally disheveled and exhausted, but he still wore a comforting smile. "We're not going anywhere. You want us here, we're here."

"No," Morgan protested. "You said it yourself— it's late. You've got kids," she said to Harley, and then to Peter, "And you've got your big opening tomorrow."

Peter shrugged. "That's tomorrow. I'm here with you now."

Morgan turned to check in with Harley, who nodded in corroboration. She felt a warmth spread through her at their unwavering solidarity. She then closed her eyes, envisioning the small, tinny voice of her father that she had played over and over again, draining battery after battery from the Iron Man figure: "_Morgan, remember when it's darkest to listen to the voice inside your head above all else. That's where you'll find me. Find me where it all started._" Things seemed just about as dark as they came at that moment, so Morgan tuned out all of the noise clogging her mind and listened to her instincts. Her father wouldn't have wanted her to quit. He would have wanted her to find another way.

Finally, after taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes. Taking the notebook from Peter, she looked again at the work they had already completed.

"1215147. 1497820. Stark - original, new, grand."

Morgan read that again.

"Stark - original, new, grand."

She narrowed her eyes and read it three more times. She felt a little lightheaded when it suddenly became clear to her. "The first letter of every word!" she exclaimed, turning the notebook back toward Peter. "What does it spell?"

"…Song!" Peter said. "It's a song?"

"Wait," asked Harley, "Are the numbers notes?"

"Can't be," Morgan said, looking at them closer. "There's eight numbers in an octave. There's a '9' in here." A thought occurred to her. "What if they're not numbers at all, but letters?" She rose from her seat and raced to the sleek, black smart-table in the center of the room, placing her palm on the cool glass to wake it up. "Friday," she ordered, "Give me the alphabet." A three dimensional diagram of the entire alphabet appeared before their eyes. "Pair numbers with each letter." She did, so that alongside A was the number '1,' B was '2,' and so on.

"Give me the first code again?" she asked Peter.

"125147."

After a minute, Morgan frowned. "That's not right. That spells A-B-A-E-A-D-G."

Harley offered, "Hold on…he listed the digits sequentially. We might very well be reading the number '12' as a separate '1' and a '2.' We have to try and pair them up!"

"Oh my god yes!" Morgan exclaimed. Number by number, they tried every possible combination, until finally Peter, working furiously from the notebook, said, "Wait. If it's 12, 15, 14, 7," he looked up triumphantly, " That would make it 'long.' It's 'long!'"

They repeated the process for the other code. After several times of trial and error, the word, "night" materialized.

"Long night?" asked Morgan.

"Long night _blank_," Harley reminded her about the missing clue via the lost arc reactor. "That is assuming that 'Stark' isn't also a clue."

"I don't see how could be," Peter countered. "It's separated by a hyphen, and could refer to literally anything in this house, including human beings"

"Long night _blank_…" Morgan repeated pensively. Unless… "Peter, which of the words did you get from the 'grand' clue?"

Peter checked his notes. "Uh…'long.'"

She looked to Harley. "And did 'night' come from 'new?'' He nodded in affirmation. She grinned. "Assuming 'Stark' isn't a clue," she explained, "If we go in order of the clues, it should be '_blank_ night long.'"

"All," Harley said, filling in the blank. "All night long! That's the only thing it could be!"

"Ah!" Peter interjected. "Like that super old song. The one that goes like, '_All n-i-i-ight long, all niiiiight…_' by uh…" Peter snapped his fingers, struggling to find the name in his memory. "The guy!" he said in frustration. "What's his name?"

Harley narrowed his eyes. "Lionel Richie?"

"Yeah!" Peter exclaimed.

Harley rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because everyone knows Tony Stark was the world's biggest Lionel Richie fan. Come on, now!"

Morgan had removed herself from their verbal joust and had begun pacing the room, running her hands through her hair. She finally took a seat, pressing her hands on top of her knees with straightened arms. Harley noticed her. "Morg', what is it?"

She looked up with tears in her eyes, whispering breathlessly, "I got it." Standing, she approached the smart-table. "Friday?" she began. "Play AC/DC's 'You Shook Me All Night Long.'"

Never before had a guitar intro sounded so sweet. Her dad's unabashed favorite band rang out throughout the small workshop. As soon as the drums started, Morgan began to bop to the beat. The three cohorts were all so tired, so mentally drained, that they took the opportunity to enjoy four whole minutes of pure silliness. Morgan asked Friday to hike up the volume, not caring if she woke up the entire Northern Hemisphere at that point. Harley headbanged and riffed on an air guitar, while Peter and Morgan engaged in some of the most awkward dancing known to the human race. The moment seemed to last far longer than the actual run time of the song, but when it had finally commenced, Morgan and Peter collapsed onto the ground breathless. "Play it again, Friday," she instructed. Once again, the same guitar riff sounded. Morgan called out to her friends, "Alright, let's pay attention to what it's trying to tell us this time!"

"If he's spelling something out with the notes, I quit!" Peter cried out. "I know literally nothing about music."

"It's gotta be something with the lyrics," Harley said. "I've pulled them up on my computer to see if I can figure it out."

They listened to the song carefully, but by the end, nothing was clear to them. Each had different theories about what Tony could be referring to, and what the next clue could possibly be. The only thing they agreed on was that they needed to hear it again. Friday got to the end of the first verse when Morgan suddenly demanded that she stop.

"Morgan?" Peter asked. "Do you have something?"

She put a hand up to silence him. "Play just the first verse, Friday," she said.

The A.I. began the song from the utterance of the first lyric.

"_She was a fast machine,_  
_She kept her motor clean,_  
_She was the best damn woman that I'd ever seen,_  
_She had sightless eyes, _  
_Telling me no lies,_  
_Knocking me out, with those—_"

"Stop!" Morgan called out. "Play again from the first verse!"

_"She was a fast machine,_  
_She kept her motor clean,_  
_She was the best damn woman that I'd ever seen,_  
_She had sightless eyes, _  
_Telling me no lies—_"

"Stop!" cried Morgan. She then rose to her feet, Peter soon following her, though he didn't dare break his gaze off of her lest he miss whatever she was about to do next. Morgan leaned forward, her hands grasping either side of the table. She murmured, "Friday, it's _you_. 'Sightless eyes,' 'a fast machine,' telling me no lies?'" She grinned. "Are you my final clue?"

Friday's voice was warm and gentle as she said, "Not quite yet, boss, but I am your next clue, true enough. You're so close now. I was programmed by Mr. Stark to give you yer final clue."

Morgan began to breathe deeply, looking between Harley and Peter in disbelief. This was it. They were at the end of the mystery.

Friday's smart-table materialized four green, dimensional cubes. "Password required to proceed," she plainly instructed.

_Password? What password?_

"Four digits or four letters?" asked Peter.

Friday replied, "Digits."

"Uh…AC/DC?" Harley suggested, mentally calculating the numerical equivalent of those letters. "1, 3, 4, 3."

The cubes turned red. "Access denied," Friday said.

"2019," Peter attempted.

"Access denied."

He tried again. "0, 4, 2, 5."

"Access denied."

"0, 4, 1, 9."

"Access denied."

Peter turned to Harley and Morgan in exasperation. "Morgan's birthday isn't working," he reported. He looked to Morgan, asking, "When was your parents' anniversary again?"

"You really think Tony Stark would password protect an extensively coded secret with a date?" Harley scoffed. "Why don't you try 'password' next? Careful—the 'o' might be a zero!"

"Not helping!" Peter barked. "It's four numbers! It's gotta be a date or a time… When was the Battle of New York?"

Morgan's mind wandered. There was only one significant number that she was aware of that she and her father shared. And if her father really had been trying to communicate with her, there was but one answer, and it was fittingly the last word he ever spoke to her.

"3000," she whispered. Then, louder. "Friday? Is it 3000?"

The three watched as each green cube gained a 3, 0, 0, and 0, then flashed sequentially. "Access granted," Friday confirmed. "Boss, let me be the first to congratulate you. You've done it!"

Morgan, Peter, and Harley all hollered at once, celebrating wildly with cheers, hugs, and astounded expressions all around.

Suddenly however, Friday interrupted their revelry by speaking over them. "Boss?" she said. "Be advised that my service has been officially terminated."

Morgan rushed to the table. "What?" she cried. "N-no! Status report!"

"It has been an honor serving your family, boss," The table projected a green ball of pulsating light that began to unravel and grow smaller and smaller.

Morgan pounded on the table. "Friday! Respond! Status report!" What was happening? Friday couldn't be shutting down—she had been there for Morgan's entire life! Friday was like family to her, an all-knowing friend designed with love by her father. Losing her would be like losing a beloved companion.

The ball had now completely unravelled to a thin, green line. "Thank you, Morgan," Friday whispered.

Morgan was almost hysterical now. "Friday! FRIDAY!" She turned to Harley, who was somehow still connected to the holofeed. "What do we do?" she asked. "She's not responding!"

"Uh…let me see…" stammered Harley, searching wildly on his computer for any sort of troubleshooting information. Little help anything online would be, however. Stark A.I.'s were some of Earth's the most advanced virtual assistants. They never malfunctioned unless an Ultron-level upheaval were to occur, and even then, only Tony Stark himself knew how to properly fix the issue.

"Morgan?" Peter said, nudging her. "Look."

He pointed towards the projected green line, which had shrunk shorter and shorter. When it became but a single green dot, it suddenly changed color. It turned red, and began to grow back into a longer line. Slowly, it spread horizontally, hovering over the table. It stretched and stretched further, further…then it touched the end of the table's range. Immediately, the projection went dark.

Silence.

"Friday?" Morgan whimpered. No response.

"Friday, run diagnostics!" Peter tried forcefully.

Harley's eyes searching the screen, his fingers rapidly pushing keys. "Did my feed freeze? What's going on over there? All I'm seeing is black."

Their lack of reply gave him his answer - there was nothing wrong with his feed. What lied before them was a blank, empty screen. No data entry points, no status reports, nothing.

"Friday!" Morgan cried out again. "System reboot."

"Morg'," Harley said gently. "I think she's gone."

These words were chilling to Morgan. No, it couldn't be true.

"SYSTEM, REBOOT." she shouted, as though it would be any help. She pounded her fist on the table. "SYSTEM REBOOT!"

"Alright, that's enough," Peter said, pulling a struggling and bereft Morgan in towards him. Taking over, he said above her protests, "Force disable."

"No!" Morgan cried, trying and failing to wriggle from his strong grip. "I can bring her back! It's not over yet!"

"Morgan," Peter said, shaking her off him. "If whatever we did destroyed your A.I., that means there's nothing there to protect your data. Your family's servers are susceptible to hacking, and believe me—there are a ton of guys out there would love to access Stark information and use it against you. We have to shut the entire unit down to keep that data safe."

"He's right, Morg'," Harely corroborated. "And if your company is a part of Stark Industries, Pete? That means your data's in danger as well."

That was all Peter needed to hear. "Force. Disable." he tried again. The screen remained blank.

"I think you're gonna have to manually disconnect, Pete," Harley said over his holofeed.

"Yeah, I think you're right. Any ideas?"

"Yeah. I found something in Tony's files. Is the A.I. server based in this room? It should be, as she's got a smart-table in there. It needs to be close to its source point."

Peter looked around, locating a thin black panel on the far wall. "I think I got it," he replied, walking towards it.

Morgan tried desperately to insert herself into his path to distract him. "No, please! Please don't do this! I can fix this! We're so close!"

But they were only ignoring her. Harley continued to walk Peter through instructions, Peter having just pried the cover off the control panel with his bare hands. Desperately, Morgan ran back to the smart-table. Maybe, just maybe she could recover Friday in time. This was her only chance, she _couldn't_ fail. She began desperately entering in codes when she looked up and saw the thin, red line start to stretch across horizontally the length of the table again, thought this time much faster. "Guys?" she said, to Peter and Harley who continued to be working on manually disabling the house AI.

"You should be able to just tear it free," Harley was saying.

"Guys!" Morgan cried out again as the line coiled into a ball of red light that was beginning to take shape and expand.

Peter wrapped his fingers around the blue censor, tensing his arm to pull it out of the panel with all his strength.

"Peter, no! Wait!" Morgan cried out.

At that moment, Peter jerked back with a start. As though the machinery was fighting back, it had sent a surge of electricity through his arm.

And then, a voice.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Peter," it said coolly.

Peter's eyes instantly welled up at the sound. Morgan just stood there, frozen, looking between her two friends who both looked utterly shocked.

After several tense moments in silence, the voice spoke again. "Really? No one? _2001: A Space Odyssey_? Not my best reference, I admit, given the audience. It long pre-dates any of you. Hell, it pre-dates me. But Parker, c'mon, thought you were Mr. Cinephile."

Suddenly, Morgan felt a wave of swirling emotions course through her at the realization of what had happened. She felt joy, relief, pride, fear, and sorrow as she recognized the voice of the man she had spent a decade researching through interviews, public appearances, speeches, and even still somewhere deep in the recesses of her memory. It hadn't been a figment of her imagination after all—her father _had_ planted a secret for her to find. "_Listen to the voice inside your head above all else. That's where you'll find me_," her father had told her through a toy. That message had not only led her, Peter, and Harley to uncover his series of clues and codes that would unlock the prize left waiting for them, but also had told Morgan the outcome from the very start— Tony Stark was quite literally the voice inside his daughter's head now. He had created his own A.I. of himself before leaving to recover the Infinity Stones in 2023, a mission he would ultimately not return home from. His meticulous efforts had led her to this very moment.

Peter let out a wide grin. "Hey, Mr. Stark!"

"Hey, kid."

The three exploded in a cacophony of celebration. Morgan whooped with laughter as Peter grabbed her by the shoulders, crying out, "YOU DID IT! YOU ACTUALLY DID IT!" Meanwhile, Harley was reclined in his chair, his fingers running through his hair in utter disbelief as he stammered, "Artificial intelligence?! Tony left behind…an A.I.?!"

"Hey hey hey whoa shut up!" Tony's voice cried out, silencing them. "I'm on sensory overload here, one at a time. I need to calibrate." They were silent as seemingly nothing happened before them. But occasionally they'd here a "mmhmmm…" "ooh!" "okay…" Finally he said, "Okay, wow. If I knew that I would have immediate access to the world's data, I would have done this a long time ago. Plus I'd be having constant conversations with myself, which is pretty much the dream… Okay…just catching myself up on a decade's worth of history, hold please…"

"Incredible," Harley said, analyzing the live diagnostics as they appeared on his paired screen. "Tony perfected the A.I.'s personality to match his own. I've never seen anything like this!"

"Yeah? I've got more than just a winning personality, Mr. Keener." He gave an impressed whistle. "Would you look at that? 'Keener Tech, the first of its kind in Rose Hill, rendering an industrial boom in the once rural Tennessee into a technological Wonderland.' Impressive."

Harley looked to Peter and Morgan. "For being ten-year-old tech, it's fast. Fantastic facial recognition and search fields, it seems."

"Aaaand now he's talking like I can't hear him. Rude," Tony said with a dismissive tsk. He then moved on to another topic. "Well, well, well. Seems we have two tech geniuses in our midst. Parker Industries?" Peter's eyes lit up in anticipation of his former mentor's feedback. "I'd contemplate the cease and desist letter, but it would appear Pepper is in on this as well… How'd you swing that?"

Peter's eyes gleamed with amusement. "We wanted to branch out."

Tony was still hesitant. "Yeah, I'd buy that if your company description didn't match mine word for word. 'A global defense enterprise with worldwide vested interests?' 'Parker Industries: A Focus on the Future.'" Yeah, I'm seeing redundancies here. Don't make me lay you off."

Peter grinned. "Your vision focused on defense weaponry. Mine's on efficiency and sustainability."

"Oh ho ho," Tony exclaimed. "Loophole semantics! Gotcha! Well we'll see if you sell the shareholders on your little 'vision' tomorrow, eh? Do something dramatic. Provocative. Say, 'I am Spider-Man.' Guarantee it, your stock will skyrocket overnight."

Peter narrowed his eyes, deep in thought. "I think there's memories in there," he said quietly to Morgan. Louder, he said, "Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me the last time you saw me."

There was a pause before he answered solemnly, "Titan." Peter looked taken aback. Tony sighed and said softly, "You've been through the wringer, haven't you, kid?"

Morgan's eyes widened. She shared a look through the holofeed with Harley, the two of them together wondering the same thing: Could her father have uploaded the entirety his consciousness entirely to this A.I.; personality, memories, aspirations, all of it? This could render the technology an advanced and perfect rendering of his entire being up until year 2023.

Peter stifled his emotion as he said, "Not nearly as much as you did, sir."

"So I have seen. I mean, I figured since I'm here that things didn't exactly pan out. But I can't really fault the way things turned out— Intergalactic mourning? Memorials erected in my name? A street name in every state? I even got a national holiday, complete with parade. That's pretty sweet."

Morgan felt paralyzed by disappointment— the A.I. still seemed to be reading more easily accessed data records rather than culling from lived memories. Even if he did contain her father's consciousness, he would never recognize Morgan as she was now. As Pepper was careful to keep Morgan away from the public eye, there wasn't really anything to search about her. This meant that she would have to reintroduce herself to her father—a daunting thought that she had absolutely no idea how to put into action at the moment.

"I don't understand!" Harley said mostly to himself. "He…he uploaded his actual consciousness? I didn't believe this was possible!"

Peter didn't respond, observing Morgan's hesitance. He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and looked towards the smart-table. "Tony," he said. Morgan's heart raced. "I want to introduce you to the reason why you're with us right now." Morgan expected him to say more, but he stopped there. Suddenly, she realized why; he was testing the A.I. Knowing that searching her face would yield zero search results, the technology's next reaction would be key in determining the intricacies of this tech. Would he be able to recognize her? Was it truly Tony, or just a replication?

Morgan held her breath and waited. Seconds seemed to pass interminably, but finally the A.I. let out a soft, "Wow. _Wow_." Morgan's heart raced. Her father whispered, "I always knew you'd find me, Morgan."

The tears poured from her eyes. "Hi, Dad!"


	6. Chapter 6 - The Prize

The first question Tony asked was, "So how'd you do it?" a question with no short answer. It was now 3:30 in the morning, but no one was about to bow out at this point. As Morgan began her tale, Peter quickly _thwipped_ together a makeshift hammock out of his webs where he and Morgan now sat, her leaning comfortably against him. Harley had rested his chin on his crossed arms, which were flat against his desk. Their eyes were distant as they interacted with the disembodied voice of the man who had been so integral to all of their lives.

Morgan was now to the point of the story where they first started to retrieve the clues. "We figured 'grand' had to refer to Grandpa, so Peter went and found the photo."

Tony gave a pensive, "hmm." "Odd choice to start there, but okay."

Peter cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I thought 'original' would have been the most obvious."

Peter, Morgan, and Harley exchanged a sheepish glance. "Well," Harley admitted, "It might have been, if it would have been immediately available to us."

"What do you mean?" asked Tony. "I put it in the arc reactor! You know, 'Proof that Tony Stark Has a Heart,' and all that?"

Morgan cringed. "Yeah that's what we figured you meant. We didn't exactly…have it anymore."

Tony paused. "What's that now?"

"It's…in the pond somewhere," said Peter.

The A.I.'s shock was apparent in his silence. "Um…okay. Unpacking that for a moment…when did _that_ happen?"

"Your funeral?" squeaked Morgan.

Tony addressed all three when he said, "You…threw my arc reactor into a pond?"

"Well it wasn't like there was a windup and a pitch," Peter protested. "We put it on some flowers and it just…floated away! It was, you know, tasteful!"

"…my _arc reactor_, though?!" Tony incredulously declared. "Bury a body, you heathens! You could have floated _me_ out there, set me on fire, rocket-launched me into the sun! Anything!" Suddenly he stopped. Cringing, he said, "Ooh…or was there not a body to toss into said sun?"

"No, there was," said Morgan, shaking her head sadly. "The government took you after you died. It was the only thing we could use to commemorate you."

"What?"

Harley sat up, explaining, "No human being had ever held all six Infinity Stones at once. It shouldn't have been possible. Even though it was what ultimately killed you, just holding them should have made you combust immediately. Only Peter Quill had ever done it before, but even then he was semi-extraterrestrial and had held only one."

"No wonder that guy's such a megalomaniac," grumbled Tony. "So they, what, hauled me away for science?"

"We assume," Peter replied.

Harley continued, "It wasn't without consequences though. Sokovia, Norway, and Nepal threatened to dissolve all trade and travel agreements with the U.S. if your body wasn't returned."

It took a moment for Tony to decipher those radically different nations, but he finally caught on. "Oh I see. Wanda, Thor and…Strange?"

"Don't forget King T'Challa," Morgan said with a grin.

"Yeah that's right!" commented Harley. "When Wakanda joined the fray, people started to really pay attention. What was it, like…twenty countries joined the protest?"

"Twenty-three," corrected Morgan. "Across Europe, Asia, and Africa."

Tony was confused. "But…it didn't happen, though. I'm not seeing any records of that."

Peter shook his head. "We won," he said simply.

"You're now in an undisclosed location," Morgan said. She looked up with a mischievous smile, whispering the secret location: "Malibu."

"Nicely done!" Tony lauded. After a moment, he shifted back to the story of how his clues were uncovered by the trio. "So the arc reactor was a bust. That must have made it harder to crack, but I mean, I'm here! You obviously figured it out. Well, and I guess you had the verbal clues to help you too."

"Yeah!" Morgan exclaimed. Her face fell as she realized she had no idea what he was talking about. "Wait," she said after a moment, "What do you mean?

"The verbal clues," Tony repeated. Clocking the confused expression between the three friends, he said, "The clues in the toy?" Nothing. "You guys _just_ told me you found the gauntlet clue from what I said the recording! What about the others?"

Peter suddenly understood his meaning, swiveling his head towards Morgan and accusatorially squinted his eyes.

Harley said in exasperation, "Are you kidding me?"

"Oh my god," said Morgan, placing a hand on her forehead. "Yeah. Yeah, I found the first clue. I didn't know the other lines you said were clues too."

"Every single thing I put in there was a clue!" exclaimed Tony. "Well…except for the advice about listening to your mom. That's just basic survival tips. There was a song…a reference to the new suit… for god's sake, I said at one point, 'what would Howard do!?' When the hell would I have said that otherwise?" He paused a moment, then teased,"The only time in history where three heads were not better than one, clearly."

Harley leaned back in his chair, amused at this turn of events. "You didn't exactly make it easy, Tony."

"Yeah!" added Peter. "A vague message in a battery operated toy, some pieces of paper in random artifacts, and an AC/DC song? You got super in-depth!"

"I had to," he explained. "Didn't want it to wind up in the wrong hands. Then we'd have an evil me running around. And imagine if I'd have lived to see that! I'd wind up fighting myself and that just actualizes some deep psychological stuff that I really have no interest in pursuing." His tone became more serious as he said, "I figured that if anyone needed me, it would be Morgan. And if she cracked it, fine. If she didn't, that would be fine too.

"I had had this idea rattling around in my brain for awhile now. After the whole Ultron, JARVIS situation, I really started to play with the idea of autonomy. Was it possible to upload a living person's consciousness in its perfect form? Personality, emotions, predilections, memories… I mean, anyone who knows me knows that I will err on the side of self-preservation at any cost, so the natural trial would be myself. I actualized it after one - Thanos, and two - you, Morgan." Morgan closed her eyes and smiled, feeling warm inside that she had been the cause fo all of this. He continued. "There had to be a backup of me in case something went wrong and…and you needed me."

She opened her eyes. "Is Friday really gone?" she asked.

His voice was somber. "Yeah, hon'. I'm sorry. When I was in the process of uploading, we discovered together that by introducing a new A.I. would dismantle the other."

Morgan was heartbroken. "She knew the whole time as I was getting closer and closer…"

His silence confirmed her unspoken question. "She accepted it long ago," he said. "While we're at it, I want to make something clear to you three, especially given, well…the way I went out." Peter and Morgan exchanged a curious glance at this, and sat straighter in the web hammock. Tony continued, "I halfway expected my death to be mundane or ordinary. Or hell, maybe I'd get trapped in the 1700s or something. And though I'm thrilled I went out in a true blaze of glory, seeing that this still really impacts you…you need to know that I'm not really him. I'm A.I. 'Artificial.' I can't age or grow or change. That Tony is gone. I'm everything he was until 2023. I feel what he felt, I think the way he thought, and I care a whole hell of a lot about you. But that's as real as it gets."

Morgan deflated slightly at this. Deep down she knew that this reality could never be altered, and that no matter what form the A.I. took, it would be truly a computer. Nothing more, nothing less. But this was the closest she could ever come to bringing him back, something which up until recently she never dreamed possible. "I'll take it," she said, beaming. All of a sudden, her chest felt heavy with emotion. "There's so much I want to tell you," she said, her voice breaking.

Tony sensed her emotional upheaval by reading her pulse. "It's okay," he said calmly. "We _can_ now. We've got time."

She searched her mind in a mental effort to find the best place to begin. What did she want him most to know? The only thing she could think to say was, "I missed you. Every day. Me and mom. We both did!"

"Yeah?" Tony said with great interest. "You remembered me? You were really little when I left."

"I did," she said, blinking back tears as she looked to the kind faces of both Harley and Peter. "I had people who wouldn't let me forget."

"What else?" Tony asked. "Tell me everything."

But she was lost for words. There was too much to be said concisely. Giving her a supportive nudge with his arm, Peter spoke for her. "Morgan is a freshman at Midtown," he boasted proudly.

"Welllll!" Tony exclaimed. "Chip off the ol' block, huh, Parker?"

"Yep!" he replied firmly. "She's only a few weeks in and is already smoking the competition. She's top of of her class!" He turned to look at Morgan as he revealed information she was hearing for the first time. "They're even going to bend protocol and bump her to an advanced section of physics next year."

Morgan was flabbergasted. "What? H-how?"

Peter shrugged. "I'm a benefactor. I pulled a few strings."

"Wait, how did you know?"she asked him.

He nudged her again. "I keep tabs on you, Stark. I know the instructors."

She couldn't properly vocalize her gratitude to him, but her grin said it all.

Harley piped up from the holofeed, "Morgan's also quite the engineer, Tony."

Morgan waved off the compliment. "In the making."

"Hardly!" Harley protested. "Go on, show him what you built!"

She shook her head modestly, but finally rose from the hammock, walking towards the concealed trap door above her where she had put the suit back in place during their sleuthing. She instinctively was about to call for Friday, but then stopped. "Oh…um. Hey, Dad?" she called. "Can you open that hydraulic panel in the ceiling? Sorry, it's weird asking you to do things for me now."

"Hey, I get it," he said. "Name of the game. Just ask nicely, or I'm not doin' shit for you." He found the mechanism and lowered the door for her, revealing her Mark III in all its glory. "Well, well, well," he exclaimed, "I never expected to see this guy again."

"Harley and I built it from your original plans!" she said. She started to wring her hands nervously, anxious for his approval. "Do you…like it?" she squeaked.

But Tony was awestruck. "Wow," he murmured. "It's almost identical. If it wasn't for the…weird shoulder mount, I'd never have spotted a difference. What is that, Rhodey's doing?"

Morgan shared a panicked glance with Peter and Harley, who both glared at her. "Um…in a way, yeah," she lied.

Tony paused. "Okay, filing that under 'cryptic statements from Morgan I'm going to revisit later.'" His attention went back to the suit. "Why the III? I built you people eighty-two better models you could have picked from, and you pick the III?"

"We wanted to go retro!" cried Morgan happily.

"Ugh you did _not_ just call me retro," Tony sneered. "Well, it's something else, kids. Really nice work."

"It's functional," said Harley with utter nonchalance, his hands folded behind his head as he leaned back in his chair.

Tony was floored. "No! Morgan? Have you flown this?"

"Mmhmm!" she replied.

"Damn, guys. That's truly badass. This craftsmanship is inspired, Keener. Be proud." Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "Speaking of which… you! Talk to me. What have you been up to in ten years?"

Harley looked surprised by his question, stumbling over his words as he said, "Well what do you want to know that you haven't already looked up about my company in under a millisecond?"

"I didn't ask about your company, I asked about you."

Morgan was quick to the punch. "Harley's got kids!" she bragged.

"I do," Harley replied simply.

"Well go on," pried Tony.

"A girl and a boy," he answered. "5 and 3." Harley then looked at Morgan knowingly. They smiled as he proudly reported, "The girl is Madison. …the boy is Anthony."

Once again, Tony was quiet for a moment, taking that praise in. When he spoke again, he said, "Look, I don't want to play favorites, but I already like the boy better. Sorry. I'm obligated." He shifted thoughts. "And, sorry to be creepy, but since I'm technically in charge of your holofeed right now, I'm seeing that this call is coming from Rose Hill. That the same house?"

"Yes indeed," he answered.

"Good. I'm glad you found your way back."

Harley was confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you left," explained Tony. "After the Decimation. Your mom and sister died, but you survived, if I'm remembering correctly?"

Harley furrowed his brow. "…yes?" He shook his head. "Wait, how do you know all of this? That's not…not common knowledge."

"You were all set for a Stark internship the summer of 2018, if I'm recalling that right," he continued.

Now Harley was visibly shaken by this information, his mouth agape. Peter and Morgan looked at each other. They'd never known about these details before this moment.

"You surprised I actually read all the applications?" Tony said in amusement. "You would have gotten through even if I didn't know you. But I gotta say, ballsy move not reaching out to have me flag your submission from the start. You could have totally pulled a 'remember when I saved your ass that one time' card, and I would have been at your mercy." Harley was still speechless, so Tony said softly, "I had some people check in to see…see if you were still around."

With every word he spoke, Harley was all the more dumbfounded. He stammered, "…you—uh huh?"

"Well, all that my guys found was an empty house. We knew from the post-Decimation Census that you had lived, but you had taken off by the time we got to you."

"I had tried to find my dad," he explained.

"And did you?" Tony asked.

Harley rolled his eyes and exhaled in a snort. "Would I be back here if I did?" He paused, fully taking in what he had just learned. "You…actually looked for me?"

"I did more than that. You think that house paid for itself?" Harley was nearly rendered comatose upon hearing this. His perception of how much Tony had cared about him been proven entirely warped; he had cared so much as to pay off the money his mother still owed on their house, ensuring that Harley would always have a home to go back to whenever he was ready. "Thank you" wasn't enough. Harley's mind searched for the right words of gratitude, but Tony didn't need his thanks. He had already moved beyond that. He instead insisted, "Alright, show me the suit! I wanna get back inside one of these suckers. Show me whatcha got!"

Morgan beamed with pride as she neared the suit she had worked so hard on. She quickly tied her dark hair up and out of the way. "You ready?" she said as she grasped the arc reactor, popping it out so that it was slightly raised and turning it clockwise. This expanded the chestplate and popped the entire unit open, revealing the inner cavity in which Morgan was then able to step into. For Tony, the original Mark III's reactor was an integral part of his actual anatomy at the time. But seeing as Morgan had no need for that, she took the opportunity to slightly modify its design in order to more efficiently get her inside the suit.

"Classy," Tony remarked, his voice now coming from inside the suit as it sealed Morgan inside. The legs, arms and chest all moved in sync with each other, but the faceplate was the last to go down and did so with a metallic squeal. "Ooh," Tony winced. "That didn't sound good."

"Yeah, Tony, that's my bad," Morgan heard Harley shout from the outside of her suit. "I molded it wrong, and Morgan course corrected with screws that are slightly too long."

"Did you follow my plans?" Tony pompously asked.

"I…took some artistic licensing," Harley admitted.

Tony sighed. "Why riff on a masterpiece, Keener?"

"Says the man who made eighty five models of the same suit!" Morgan teased.

"Hey!" he retorted. "Whose side are you on? Any answer other than 'my dad' is incorrect!"

Morgan laughed as she finally fired up the suit. She was unaccustomed to Tony's A.I. interface in place of Friday's, but seeing his diagnostics appear before her eyes was thrilling and bizarre all at the same time. She never imagined that she would have the chance to operate one of her dad's suits _with_ him actually being present.

"Okay let's see…" he said, examining the suit's statistics from his interface. "You've got tremendous power in those thruster boots. Way more than this suit had back when I was operating this model."

"Seriously?" Morgan said in disbelief. "We were just spitballing!"

"How does it handle a charge, though?"

"I'm not sure," Morgan admitted. "We've never taken it out long enough to find out." She lowered her voice. "We had to run tests while Mom was asleep."

"Ah, good call," Tony replied. "I can't imagine she'd be onboard with any of this."

Morgan couldn't stop smiling. She had only spent thirty minutes with her dad's consciousness, yet every interaction so far was unfolding exactly how she dreamed it would. _Yeah, it's official_, she thought with pride. _My dad is the coolest._

"Hmm," Tony interrupted her thoughts. "My interface isn't picking the left repulsor."

Morgan frowned. "Really? That's odd." She raised her left hand, turning her palm towards her to examine it. "That should definitely be there…"

"DO NOT POINT THAT AT YOUR FACE!" Tony exclaimed.

Of course he was right— if the blaster went off, it would have taken Morgan's head clean off. She jumped, shouting, "Sorry!" while whipping her hand out away from her. The force in doing so, however, confused the suit, sending a repulsor blast careening straight towards a the worst possible spot on the workshop floor.

The blast made contact with the broken crate of the HJ-6895, whose broken lid had remained opened. The kinetic energy triggered the launch system of the missile and it took off with a powerful whir, crashing through the roof of the shed and causing Peter to dart for cover away from the falling shards of wood and insulation.

Morgan had recoiled, but soon turned her head toward the sky, watching the missile soar through the gaping hole and launch straight up into the night sky. "Ohhhhh no."

"That's not good," Peter mumbled.

"So uh," said Tony calmly, "Anyone care to tell me what that was, and what exactly we're going to do about it?"


	7. Chapter 7 - The Missile

"Okay," said Tony, "Who here left their ballistic missile just lying around?"

Morgan glared when Peter immediately snitched on her with an accusatory point of his finger.

Blessedly, Tony completely bypassed any snarky comments spreading blame. Instead, he gave a long, belabored sigh. "Alright," he mumbled weakly. "Kid, wanna get on that?"

At the same exact moment, Peter, Harley, and Morgan, each assuming that Tony was referring to themselves, answered in the affirmative. "Yep!" "On it!" "Gotcha!" They stopped immediately upon hearing the others' simultaneous responses, freezing in complete bewilderment.

"…so, I'll have to be more specific, then. Got it," Tony noted. "Peter," he specified. "Go!"

"Right!" Peter replied, his mask instantly hooding his face. He turned towards the doorway, tensing his arms to begin slinging webs, but he paused. For a moment, he searched the now empty night sky, the missile long out of sight by then. "Uh…where exactly am I going?" he asked Tony.

"Dad, I can go!" Morgan interjected. "You can track the—"

"Hold please," Tony said over her. Still addressing Peter, he said, "I'm tracking its motion presently. It's currently…1600 feet in the air on a trajectory headed towards…oh. Yep. Cool. Headed straight towards Albany."

Peter winced. "So here's the thing…I can't fly."

"I can!" Morgan said, raising a hand eagerly that went utterly unnoticed by the men.

"Still with the webs?" Tony asked Peter. "Can't you catapult yourself?"

"Onto something large and stationary maybe," replied Peter sheepishly.

"Dad, let _me_ go," Morgan tried again.

This time, she could tell Tony had heard her, but now he was clearly trying to intentionally exhaust all possible options. Using her would be his absolute last resort. "Uhhh…Harley, talk to me," he said.

Harley blinked. "I'm in Tennessee."

"Yeah, thank you. I got that much," huffed Tony. "Can you disable it remotely?"

"Send me your tracking coordinates and I'll try."

"Transferring now."

They waited a split second before Tony had sent over the ever-changing coordinates of the missile's trajectory. Harley's eyes flicked wildly across the screen as he read. Finally, he stammered, "It's moving too fast, Tony. I can basically only tell you how it's moving. I can't hack into its interphase."

"Dad!" Morgan insisted. "It's gotta be me! Let's go get it!"

Tony exhaled with a reluctant groan, "And I can't imagine you put my Mark XLIX remote access tech into this suit, did you Harl'?

Harley was deadpan. "It's a Mark III," he said matter-of-factly.

"I could dream," sighed Tony. "Okay, then. It looks like we've arrived at our last resort." Morgan's heart soared. Last resort, ready for action! Everything came crashing to a halt, however, when Tony then asked her, "Morgan, how many times have you taken this guy out?"

She hesitantly answered, "Twice?"

Her father was silent for a moment, then answered. "That'll have to do. I'll talk you through it. It'll be fine…probably." Tony's interphase buzzed to life again before Morgan's eyes as she began to power up her thrusters. Meanwhile, Tony instructed Peter and Harley. "Boys, I'm going to transfer you to a conference call from inside the suit, okay? Harley, I need you to read me vectors. Track our flight with that of the rocket."

Right on cue, Harley's voice suddenly came from inside Morgan's helmet. "On it!"

"Peter?" Tony began, though his voice quickly trailed off upon syncing up with the intricacies of Peter's suit. "Who is 'Karen?'" he asked, having read his own interphase.

Peter's voice now sounded from within the helmet. "…it's uh… what I named the A.I. you put in the suit," he grimaced.

"Hi… Karen," Tony said uncomfortably. "Welcome to the party."

"Hello!" replied Karen cheerily.

"Pete," Tony instructed, "I'm gonna need you to flank us in case we have issues with takeoff. We're gonna leave you behind, so have Karen direct you to Albany in case we need backup."

"Gotcha!" Peter corroborated before making his swift egress out the open shed door and disappearing into the woods with a quick sling of a web.

Lastly, it was Morgan's turn. "Morgan," he said, "I have no control over the suit. I can only run diagnostics. So listen to everything I say."

"Okay."

"Engage your thrusters." Morgan immediately pivoted her heels inward, triggering the sensors that ignited the blue, radiating waves beneath her boots, lifting her inches off the ground in a wavering hover.

"Hit your stabilizers," he then said. Morgan flexed her fingers outward, sending a similar energy pulsating downward to keep her steady.

"Look up," was the last thing he said.

Morgan's eyes widened. "I'm flying _through the roof_?" she cried.

"Mom's already going to be pissed that you put a missile through it, how much worse could it get? I'm gonna count you down, okay?" Morgan took a deep breath, then readied her gaze upward. "In three…two…one…go!"

She set her jaw as she launched straight upward, taking out a larger portion of the roof than the missile had made, but otherwise remaining completely unscathed. She could see the roof of her house growing further from her as she soared high above the trees. It was a flawless takeoff, and despite only having done this twice, it was Morgan's favorite part of operating the suit. Her face broke into a smile as she eased into the aerodynamics of the suit, tilting her body parallel to the ground once she had gained enough altitude. Tony was quick to comment, "You're a natural, kid! Nice work!"

"Okay Morgan, I need to to veer slightly to the right," Harley instructed her, shifting her angle until she was on the right trajectory.

Looking forward, her eyes scanned the night sky. "Uh Dad?" she asked. "I don't see the missile anywhere. Harley, are you sure we're going the right way?"

"Yeah, he's correct," Tony answered. "The missile's got some mileage ahead of us. We're going to need to pick up the pace."

Morgan felt panic start to rise inside her. "Has it started making its descent yet?" she asked concernedly.

"Don't worry about that yet," Harley answered. "I'll let you know when it's time to worry. We're good for right now."

"Morgan," Tony instructed, "We need more power. Have you activated your turbo mode?"

"Not yet."

"Okay, you're going to want to engage that right now, but be careful. Remember how I said these thrusters are way more powerful than my Mark III was? You need to angle your stabilizers downward, okay?"

Morgan nodded, flexing her feet down simultaneously. This movement increased the power in the boots tenfold. The suit paused for a split second midair, then took off like a jet engine. However, Morgan had forgotten Tony's advice about the stabilizers.

"Down. Down! DOWN!" Tony cried, as the suit began to spiral out of control in a corkscrew formation. When Morgan finally did get control of the suit, she had lost significant altitude. So preoccupied was she in stabilizing her form that she didn't notice the…

"TREE!" shouted Tony.

But it was too late. Morgan braced for impact as she tried her best to skirt the tree, but ended up surging forward through several of its branches. She then began to bounce like a pinball from tree to tree, crashing through branches and leaving broken branches and fluttering leaves in her wake.

"Morgan! _Morgan_!" instructed Tony. "Disengage turbo mode. We gotta clear the forest and get you back up in the sky."

But Morgan was on complete sensory overload. Her eyes were focused solely on dodging tree trunks. "I can't!" she yelled.

"Draw your knees to your chest!" he cried. "That will disengage turbo! Come on!"

Morgan finally took a deep breath and did as he asked, but in so doing, she completely shut down her left thruster boot. Now she was flying with only her right heel, dipping and dodging wildly among the forest.

"Uh…what do I do?" Morgan asked in a panic.

"Bring your left thruster back online!" Tony said.

"I can't!" she protested. "I'm too busy trying not to die!"

"Okay, Karen? Is Peter anywhere nearby?" Tony asked the conference call.

"Right behind you guys!" Peter's voice answered. "I'm assuming you're the path of destruction I'm following?"

"Oh, was it obvious?" said Tony sardonically. "So how's your knitting skills?"

"Weird question," Peter replied. "Gonna need to ask why that's even a thought right now."

"I'm thinking…web net, slash catapult?" Tony mused. "If you catch my drift."

"I think I can make that happen," Peter replied.

Karen's voice sounded inside the helmet. "Approaching Morgan now."

"'K, Morguna," Tony said to his flailing daughter, "When I count to three, completely shut down the suit."

"_Shut it down_?!" she asked incredulously.

"It's okay, Morgan, I gotcha!" Peter replied. "Just let yourself fall and don't fight it. I'm gonna catch you!"

"Just do what he says, Morgan," Tony maintained.

Every protective instinct in Morgan's body told her not to disengage the suit entirely, but finally she did as instructed. The suit powered down, all thrusters going dead as she felt herself start careening to the earth. Time seemed to slow down she she looked straight up into the starry night sky. All of a sudden, Peter swung into her line of vision, sending a web straight for her that branched out into a wide net. This net make contact with her metallic chest plate at the same moment Peter latched onto a large tree. Using his web shooter, he started to reel the web in towards him at the same moment he swung his arm upwards as forcefully as he could, sending Morgan soaring past him upwards through the foliage. When she finally crested over the woods, the web released. Tony immediately said, "Okay, power on and engage turbo mode immediately. _Now_!"

Without a second thought, Morgan did as she was told and the suit came back to life with a steadfast zoom! She let out a holler in celebration! "Teamwork!" she cried. "Thanks Peter!"

"You guys good?" he asked.

"Yep! We're back in business! Thanks, kid!" Tony replied.

"Um," said a concerned Harley. "Actually we are _not_ good, guys. The missile's making its descent real quick."

"How far out are we?" Morgan asked.

Harley hesitated. "It's really difficult to say," he replied. "You're hauling now. At this rate, you should catch it in a few minutes, given that you stay on course. Speaking of which, veer left, please."

Morgan made the adjustment, then set her sights forward. "I can make it shorter," she replied. With a determined gaze, she flexed her boots even harder, increasing the power coming from them, and therein her speed as well.

"Great job," Tony praised her. "Really, really great job. You're soaring now."

Morgan said nothing in response, in fear that even the slightest break in her concentration would leave room for error.

Tony, who was keeping tabs on her physical responses from within the suit, sensed her burgeoning despair and high stress levels. "You're doing great," he encouraged her. "For this being only your third time out, you're doing amazing. Seriously."

"Yeah, Morg'," Harley echoed. "We've never tried anything like this before. You're killing it."

"You got this, Morgan!" added an out of breath Peter. "I have no idea where you are right now, but I'm sure it looks awesome!"

Morgan relaxed significantly, warming to the praise of her cohorts. Yeah. I do got this! she said to herself. Suddenly, Tony's interphase materialized a red circle that appeared within the glass of her visor. "What is that?" she asked him.

"Harley, is that the missile?" he asked.

"Coming up on it now," Harley confirmed. "If you keep this pace, you're going to blow by it entirely."

"Yeah, Morgan, slow down," Tony instructed. Carefully this time, Morgan shifted her position to slightly lessen her speed. The circle grew wider and wider as she approached the missile, which trailed a fiery orange flame behind it that become more defined with every passing moment. Looking below her, Morgan felt the panic rise up again as she saw that suburban streets were coming more plainly into view; they were indeed making their descent and fast.

"Okay," Tony sounded. "I need you to adjust your speed so that you are keeping pace with the missile, alright? We're gonna dip beneath it, carefully grabbing hold of it only to point it back upwards, okay? Harley, track an angle that will send this guy into a large body of water."

"On it!" Harley said.

All of a sudden, Morgan's visor began flashing red around the edges, while an alarm sounded. "What's that?" she asked.

"Wonderful," Tony said. "We're losing charge."

_Oh no_, thought Morgan. So powerful had her thrusters been that the suit was not remotely as equipped to handle an endurance run as her dad's original suit had been. Never having used it quite like she had today, she had had no way of knowing how long…or short, as it were, the battery life would be.

"Battery at fifteen percent," Tony reported somberly. "That's not good."

"What do we do?!" cried Morgan.

"Don't freak out," he said. "Keep to the plan, and keep pursuing the missile. Harley, how are those coordinates coming, bud?"

"Not great," Harley reported. "I'm not seeing how we can knock this missile on a trajectory that will make it to a large enough body of water without inflicting significant damage."

The red visor lights flashed again. "Ten percent," Tony reported. Then to Harley, he said, "Keep trying."

Morgan made the mistake of looking down, confirming her fear that they were nearing ever closer to Albany's cityscape. "Dad," she said. "We're getting really low to the ground!"

"I know," he said, keeping his voice calm and reassuring for her.

"What do we do?" she cried. "What's our charge now?"

"Seven percent."

"Harley?" she asked in desperation.

"Still running the numbers! Hold on!"

Morgan could feel the blood pulsating in her ears. They'd never make it. Finally, Morgan forced her arms out in front of her, stopping her progress entirely and bringing the suit to a hover midair.

"What are you doing?!" cried Tony.

"We're not going to make it!" she answered. Closing one eye, she focused the other on her target, taking aim with her right arm.

"Morgan, no!" Tony shouted.

She fired, sending a repulsor blast careening toward the barrel of the missile. She missed.

She clenched her jaw, then fired again.

"MORGAN!" yelled Tony once more.

This blast _did_ make contact, but just barely. The very edge of her blast ricocheted off the barrel, rendering the force not enough to destroy it, but only to nudge it off course. The course it now took? Straight downwards.

"No!" Morgan whispered. She immediately engaged turbo mode again, despite the red flashing lights and alarm sounding like a fire engine in her helmet. She angled her body so that she was nearing the rocket, increasing her pace to soar past it.

"What's happening?" Harley asked. "My feed is telling me you guys are accelerating towards the ground!"

"What's going on?" Peter, who was still miles behind them, asked in utter confusion.

"Morgan, you need to stop!" Tony cried desperately. "You are rapidly losing charge! We are at four percent! …three percent!"

"I gotta stop it!" she protested.

"Why would you shoot a missile?" he asked in disbelief. When she didn't answer, he shouted, "Morgan!"

"I'm going to fix this!" she finally replied, nearing the missile. She was so close she could make out individual rivets in its exterior.

"Morgan, we are at two percent charge! Pull back! Pull back _now_!"

"NO!" she shouted. With one fell swoop, Morgan dipped below the missile's trajectory and stopped in midair. She gazed upward as the missile's warhead came barreling straight for her. Out of sheer instinct, she raised her right hand and sent one final repulsor blast straight into it point blank.

"MORGAN!" Tony shouted.

That's when everything went dark.


	8. Chapter 8 - The Fallout

When Morgan came to, she didn't initially realize that she was still careening back to earth in midair. The missile detonated in her face, knocking her unconscious and rocking the suit to its very foundation, but did no bodily harm to Morgan's body within. Morgan was disoriented when she saw what appeared to be floating pieces of shrapnel from the missile floating around her. That's when she realized that she was falling to her death.

"Dad?" she cried in desperation. "Harley?" No answer. Morgan tried to stimulate her thrusters, her stabilizers, anything, but her final repulsor blast and the resulting explosion had completely fried her interface. She was trapped inside a metallic shell that was growing closer to the ground by the second.

Now utterly alone, Morgan had no choice but to spring into action herself. She spun around so that she was facing the very ground she was getting dangerously close to colliding into; one of the scariest perspectives she had ever encountered. She glanced wildly at her surroundings for any semblance of a safe place to land. _The Hudson_! Just off to the east was the Hudson River, and she was still high enough that maybe, just maybe, she could direct her body to dive right in. She pressed her arms and legs together and angled her body downwards, using aerodynamics to direct her motion. The water grew closer and closer. It was actually working! At last, when Morgan was close enough to see ripples in the water, she extended her arms and legs into a wide stance in what would have been a painful belly flop had she not been within the suit.

_BAM! _

Morgan was rocked and felt herself jolt as the rushing river water began to pull her along its stream, but she began to laugh in wild relief when she realized she had made it back to Earth in one piece. However, the moment was extremely short-lived as she realized that she was now trapped inside a heavy metallic suit that was sinking to the bottom of the riverbed. To make matters worse, Morgan's helmet began to slowly fill with water, the bottom right edge of her mask having been damaged slightly during the explosion. She began to churn her arms wildly, though her attempts to swim were quickly proving futile. Morgan closed her eyes. _This is it,_ she thought in utter despair. _After all that, I'm going to drown here and no one will even know. _

Suddenly, a brief crackling sound danced within the helmet. Morgan froze, wondering if she had only imagined the noise. "Dad?" she gurgled, trying to lift her chin above the now-mouth level water.

"M-ga…" the sound crackled again. At last, the A.I.'s voice rang out, "Morgan!"

"Dad!" she cried. "Help!"

"You gotta get out of there. You're sinking fast, and you have absolutely zero charge left. Leave the suit behind and swim for shore. Keep the helmet, it's the only way I can communicate with you."

Instinctively, Morgan grasped wildly for the arc reactor. When her gauntlet finally found it, she yanked at it to release its hold. Her body then felt suddenly exceedingly lightweight, but was pummeled with freezing cold water that hit her like a subway train.

"That's it! Atta girl!" Tony said. "Now churn your arms! That's it! Swim up!"

Morgan did exactly that, churning as hard as she could. The water inside the helmet was now to the point where she could only take one final gasp of oxygen before her mouth and nose were both completely submerged. Gazing through the visor, she kept churning, using the rippling light from the moon above her as her guide. At last, she broke through, though the river was pulling her along its own route. Morgan's pulse raced as she could feel her body aching to take a breath. She stopped swimming and let the current pull her as her hands went to her face mask.

_Oh my god_, she thought as she tried to release it. _It's stuck. The face mask…it's stuck!_ Due to their prior molding discrepancies, the face mask was tightly sealed shut, keeping the water trapped inside the helmet, as well as Morgan's sole source of oxygen. She began to tear at the mask desperately, her lungs feeling as though they were about to cave in entirely.

"Jesus!" cried Tony, searching for a way to free his daughter from the veritable fish bowl she was about to drown inside. "Um…oh! Reach for the seal around the neck! Morgan, pull it! Yank it with everything you got!"

Morgan's fingers quickly found the rubber seal and she tore it out with all of her might. Feeling it tear free, the water level slowly began to diminish, as it was pouring down her neck. She lifted her head above the water line, taking the deepest gasp of air she had ever taken.

"That's it!" Tony reassured her. "Breathe! Come on now! Okay, just a little more. I need you to swim towards the riverbank, okay?" Morgan robotically began to swim towards the shore, grabbing a hold of reeds lining the riverbed and pulling herself up slowly to onto the muddy shoreline. She collapsed on her back, her sides heaving as she yanked the helmet off her head. Her right hand still inside, she placed it at her side so she could still hear her dad as he said, "There you go. You made it. You're okay."

The frigid autumn night air began made Morgan's sopping wet clothes all the more freezing, causing her to shiver. The relief she felt in having survived was lessened, however, by the feeling of utter defeat. Her Mark III, her once mint-condition model, was gone forever, swept away by the river's current somewhere.

Morgan didn't have much of a chance to wallow, however, as Tony, who had been reading her body temperature and pulse from her hand inside the helmet, amplified his voice so that she could hear when he said, "You're miraculously unscathed, but you're way too cold. We have to get you back home stat."

She attempted a breathy laugh. "Y-yeah," she stuttered, her jaw clattering from the cold. An-other reason we… shoulda gone with the Ma-ark XLIX. Bet it had heat-ers."

"Damn straight," he replied. "I guarantee you the features in that one will make this last one seem like a tin can." He then prodded, "Your body temperature is getting dangerously low. You need to move, Morgan. Sit up. Come on, now."

Carefully, she raised herself to a sitting position, finally looking around her. The blast must have sent her way off course, because she was in a completely unpopulated area. Lights from a nearby city loomed in the distance. As though reading her mind, Tony said, "I'm gonna walk you towards civilization, okay? I lost Harley and Peter's feeds, but I think they're still connected to each other. Harley can still track you through the helmet, so I'm counting on that being how Peter can find you. I can go remote and arrange transportation for you then."

Morgan slowly made her way to her feat with a wince. She began hobbling up the riverbank towards an unlit road. "Go remote now," she said. "Contact the guys and tell them I'm fine."

"You're _not_ fine, and no way in hell I'm leaving you alone over here on Murderville Road," he protested. "Once I go remote, there's no guarantee I can reconnect with the helmet. It was already hard enough as is to hack back in after the explosion. Until Peter gets here, I'm staying connected with you."

"It's fine, Dad. I'm gonna be okay. We stopped the missile!"

"Yeah, barely," he scoffed. "Your big plan was seriously to stop it with your fist?"

Morgan hunched her shoulders and crossed her arms as she walked not only to maintain internal body heat, but to physically brace herself for the inevitable lecture to come. "You gotta listen to me, Morgan. I did what you did on the regular for more years than you have been alive. When I'm telling you to not fire at a ballistic missile, you don't fire at a ballistic missile!" When she didn't answer him, he pressed, "Why did you do that?"

"I don't know," she snapped.

"That doesn't cut it," he delivered right back. "Why did you not listen to reason?"

She finally cried out, "Because 'reason' would have ended up with a lot of people dead! We were losing battery, and I did what I had to do."

"No," he protested. "You _panicked_, and weren't thinking straight. You acted on impulse, which only made things worse."

"No one got hurt," she said. "It doesn't matter."

"_You could have died_!"

"But I didn't!" she cried, throwing her arms out to the side indignantly. "You're only saying that because you can run all the stats now! The human you would have taken risks like that!"

"Yeah, and human me died!" Tony shouted, causing Morgan to completely freeze. He continued, "And human me should have probably died a hundred times over with some of the dumb things I pulled, metal suit or otherwise." He sighed deeply. "Morgan, I don't know what this was tonight— if you were just trying to impress me, if you were trying to prove something to yourself, but I'm not sure I understand any of what's going on. You build a Mark III out of the blue, you procure a WMD for no discernible reason, and when it really matters, you refuse to listen to your A.I., who has not only been in your shoes, but also has a limitless amount of data that is telling you exactly what to do and how to do it." He took a moment, then asked, "What's really going on here?"

Morgan shrugged. "Nothing."

"Something!" he maintained. "Look, if there's some sort of resentment you have for me…"

"What?" she asked in shock.

"I'd get it if you blamed me for leaving you."

"No!" she protested.

"If you're trying to make your own way without me, make your own suit? Save the world in your own way? I get it. In that case, maybe having me around is a setback. If you feel you should disable me—"

Morgan cut him off, "Dad, no! You saw how much I needed you back there! I would have drowned!" She paused, feeling utterly overwhelmed. "I need you," she said softly. "I've always needed you. I've been looking for your clues for years. Everything I do is to be closer to you in the only way I could before. I made that suit to be you. I study and I work and I build so that I can understand what your mind was like. I wanted to know everything you were."

After a moment, Tony commented, "It sounds like that doesn't leave much room for yourself."

"Wh-what? No, you're not getting it," she said in frustration.

But Tony cut her off again. "No, I rather think I'm completely getting it. Morgan, when I asked you to tell me about yourself, all you could think to do was talk about what you felt about me. What do you like to do for yourself? Because building my suits? That's for me. Finding the clues I left? Me again. Who are you without me?" She was silent at this, unsure of how to answer. Tony's next words shook her to her core. "Do you even know?"

Morgan fought back tears as she whispered bitterly, "How could I know? I practically walk around every day with a neon sign over my head that reads, 'TONY STARK'S DAUGHTER,' in blinking red letters. No one really talks to me. They talk about me, all the time. I've never had any real friends beyond Harley and Peter. Not true friends. Everyone keeps their distance because I'm the daughter of a tragedy. People are so scared to talk to me, touch me, even look at me!" She looked down at the helmet incredulously. "Did you know that when I was in fourth grade, my teacher called Mom into a meeting, telling her to keep me home from school because in our history unit, we were going to cover the Decimation? When I went back two days later, the whole class looked at me like I was a science experiment come to life! It happened again in sixth grade, eighth grade, and it's going to happen again in Ms. Washington's social studies class in a few weeks. Already got the note telling me to stay home!

"Everywhere I go, you follow me! So why _wouldn't_ I make everything about you? Everyone already does it for me already! I just thought that maybe if I could understand you, I could understand more about myself. What makes me not like you. What makes me different! What do I have that you didn't have? I got the missile because it's something I thought I could try that was different. And I thought I could destroy the missile because it was something no one had thought about yet. You're right, Dad. I don't know. I don't know who I am without you because I've never been allowed to be 'Morgan.' To everybody else out there, I'm just a Stark."

Tony was silent for a long time. So much so that Morgan thought that maybe he had lost connection with the helmet. But finally, after several seconds, he said softly, "I'm not sure that this is a good idea, Morgan. I think you should probably disable me when we get home."

"What? Dad, what are you talking about?"

"My being here is going to keep you back."

Morgan was starting to hyperventilate. "No! Dad that's not—"

"Look what just happened when I was disconnected from the suit," he said, cutting her off. "When you were left to your own devices, you knew immediately what to do. You went straight for the river. When I reconnected, you let yourself become helpless. You were counting on me to save you when you were perfectly capable of saving yourself." His tone was bleak as he said, "You have to let me go, Morguna. My A.I. won't help you at all with that."

Morgan was about to break down entirely. "It's not just me!" she protested. "The world won't let you go! That's why I can't either!" She took a staggered breath. "Please, Dad, I need you. Please don't do this."

"It's not a punishment, or a threat, Morgan. It's truly not good for you. Mom would agree."

As much as she hated to admit it, Morgan saw both sides in that moment. After just getting a version of her father to herself, she was ready to go to war to keep him forever. But then again, he was right: the moment he had reconnected to the suit, Morgan allowed herself to seize up with fear because she had someone to rely on. Maybe completely disconnecting herself from her father was the only way for her to truly find her own sense of purpose.

Any further discussion was curtailed by the arrival of Peter, however, who came jogging up to them from behind in his Spider-Man suit. He stopped, hunching over with his hands on his knees, completely winded. "Oh…hey guys!" he panted. "Saw…a big flash. Did…did you…take care of the thingie?" He used his middle and ring finger to press down on his palm, which triggered the sound of the web shooter, but no actual webs emerged. "Out of webs," he explained. "Ran here."

"Yes. Thingie contained," Tony replied. "Well…more like falling from the sky in minuscule pieces that now the authorities are investigating, but…no one got hurt."

Harley's voice sounded from inside Peter's suit, "I'm gathering you made it?"

"Yeah, Harl'," Peter replied. "Excellent 'Guy in the Chair' action, man. Killed it."

"Peter, your suit is at low charge," Karen reported. "As Morgan has been located, I recommend ending the call with Harley to conserve battery."

Tony's voice intercepted the call. "Harley, feel free to disconnect. You saved the day, pal. Take a well-deserved nap."

Harley snorted. "Too late for that. I'm definitely not turning in now at this point, so Morgan, call me as soon as you're safely back at the cabin, alright?"

Morgan promised that she would, and he promptly ended his call through the A.I.s. Tony asked that Karen, who reported that she had approximately thirty minutes of charge left in her, direct Peter and Morgan to the end of the road, where he would call a cab to meet them there and drive them back.

"Morgan, I'm not sure I'll be able to reconnect to the helmet once I'm gone. You'll take care of her, Pete?"

"I got her," Peter replied.

"Okay. Have the driver hike up the heat. She's really cold."

"Don't worry, Tony. She's safe with me."

Only then did Tony disconnect from the helmet. Now alone, Morgan began to slowly make her trek back down the dark road. Peter broke into a slight jog to catch up with her. He put an arm around her shoulder and tried to heat up her upper arms with friction from his own hands. "Wow, yeah you really are cold," he commented. "I, on the other hand, am burnin' up in here."

"Well, I'd guess so," she said softly. "You ran how far?"

"Like seven miles, but it's fine," he said, waving her off.

"I'm sorry," she said sorrowfully. "I was an idiot. I totally wasted everyone's time."

Peter furrowed his brow. "Um, no you absolutely did not. We got your dad back, didn't we?"

Morgan only gave a slight nod and was silent.

Peter leaned his head around to force eye contact. "Hey. You okay?"

"Yeah," she lied.

"Nah, I know that face. Haven't seen it in awhile, but I know it. Is it because you lost the suit?"

"No. I mean…that's a bummer, but no."

"Then what is it?"

Morgan finally broke down fully for the first time that night. It had been emotionally turbulent to say the least, but she had never fully allowed herself to lose control. It felt good to finally let it all out. She told Peter everything that her dad had just told her. He held her close and listened without saying a word. Once she had finished presenting both possible outcomes for the fate of Tony's A.I., she looked up at him expectantly. "What should I do?" she sobbed.

Peter looked back at her and said, "I don't think I ever told you about the time your dad took the first suit he made for me away, did I?"

Morgan's eyes widened. "He did?"

"Remember when I cut the boat in half?" he said, cringing at the memory.

"Yeah of course!" she said, laughing through her tears. "I love that story."

"Well, after your dad came by and saved everyone, he made me give the suit back. I told him that I was nobody without it, and he said that if that was true, then I shouldn't have it at all."

Morgan was confused. "But…I'm clearly looking at a suit right now, so you for sure got it back. How'd you do it?"

"I proved that I was just as powerful without the suit," he said simply. "And you know what I learned when all the pomp and circumstance that came along with being 'Spider-Man' went away?" Morgan shook her head. "What really mattered," he continued. "I let the suit blind me to all the things I was letting fall by the wayside. I was ignoring my friends, my school activities, my aunt…The suit was what I thought everyone expected me to be, but really, all they ever really wanted was who I was already." He took a moment, and let out a quick snort in disbelief just to himself. In a certain way, Peter had learned that lesson again tonight, though a different sort of suit had blinded him to what really mattered.

"I don't _know_ who I am already," said Morgan tearfully. "I missed Dad so much…it's all been about him. What would make him proud, was I living up to him, was I being a good example for our family, was I letting him down, was I like him, would he like me?"

Peter smiled. "And how lucky are you that you get to actually get answers to these questions?" He shook his head. "No, it's not luck. You made it happen, Morgan! That's who you are - you're a problem solver. You're enterprising! You see an opportunity, and you don't give up until it's done. But that's what I see. What do _you_ see?"

"I don't know," she maintained.

"Of course you do!" he urged. "Come on now— think about what's important to you. If you could be doing anything in the world right now…besides sleeping or maybe taking a hot shower…what would it be? What would make you happy? You _know_ this!"

Morgan took a moment and scoured her brain. Deep down, there was something. But she had always written it off as a far-off pipe dream that wasn't worth pursuing. It was scary territory for her even to even _attempt_ to enter, as it exceeded the bounds of where her father's innovations had gone. Would Pepper even allow it? She had always been too afraid to ask. And bigger yet, this new prospect would require her to put all of herself into it. If she failed, it would be her name attached to that failure— no one else. So, it had always been safer to stick to what she knew, and what she knew better than anything else was the past.

"You don't have to tell me," Peter said, cutting into her thoughts. "It's for yourself to figure out. But you _gotta_ figure it out and when you do, chase it no matter what. That's what makes you you."

She considered this for a moment, then asked quietly, "Should I disable Dad's A.I.?"

Peter shook his head sadly. "I can't even begin to tell you what to do about that," he said. "It's not my place."

More tears spilled from her eyes. "His death hurt you more than me," she murmured. "You watched him go. Would you ever forgive me if I disabled him? After I just brought him back?"

"Morgan," Peter said, tightening his embrace. "You gave me one more chance to talk to him. Any amount of time was a gift. Look… I had a dad. Tony wasn't him. He's yours. You gotta make that choice for yourself. But just know that no matter what you decide, Harley and I aren't going anywhere. You dragging us into this mess was the best thing that could have happened. It was a _great_ mess."

She nodded slowly, her mind waffling between her choices. How she wished Peter had had a firm opinion on what her next course of action would be. But then again, she respected his neutrality, and felt an enormous amount of relief that he would always be there to support her no matter what.

"Can I just suggest one thing, though?" Peter added.

"What?"

"You gotta tell your mom. You can't keep her in the dark on this. She has just as much of a right to decide what to do as you do, if not more. Let her talk to him, okay?"

As much as that thought was chilling to her, she inwardly knew he was right. She nodded and gave her word. Pepper had to know. Maybe she would help make the decision easier.

Karen suddenly sounded from inside his suit. "Peter, vehicle approaching the end of the street." He narrowed his mask eyes, focusing down the road ahead. "Yep, that's the taxi," he confirmed. He increased his pace. "C'mon, let's getcha home!"

* * *

The rays of the early morning sun had begun to slowly spread across the now placid cabin. Morgan had watched the sky change from a navy blue to a light pink through the gaping hole in her shed roof. She and Peter had changed clothes, Peter's regalia surfacing from a box of Tony's old clothes in the garage. "Tony Stark owned a pair of sweatpants?" mused Peter to the A.I. "Yeah, keep makin' fun of me, Mr. 'I Wear My Penguin Suit to Combat,'" Tony had volleyed right back.

Now wrapped in a blanket and sitting on the edge of her workbench, Morgan lowered her gaze from the damaged ceiling back to the men she loved so dearly around her. Peter was leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed. When they locked eyes, he gave her a small smile. Her eyes traveled over to Harley's holofeed. Harley was rapidly typing away on his second screen, his eyes focused like a hawk and near-unblinking. He had been this way ever since Tony had updated him on the fact that he felt it was the wisest idea to disable his A.I. service, given Morgan's revelation of the emotional duress she was under. All three of them had remained silent, taking this in slowly, while Harley gave a small nod and began to launch into some unseen computer work. Morgan couldn't tell if he was mad, or maybe just bored? Perhaps he was taking care of something for his business? She couldn't tell. Therefore, all four entities in the room remained completely silent, thinking over the various outcomes of this utterly unexpected events that had transpired over the past seven hours.

How was she going to tell her mom, Morgan thought, her eyes finally landing on the smart-table where Tony's red interphase was slowly pulsating. Every time she thought about what on earth Pepper's reaction would be, she came up with dozens of possibilities. As though reading her mind, Peter said, "Do you want me to stay?"

Morgan swiftly shot that idea down. "No, I've already kept you up all night. You need to get back to Manhattan."

He looked at her earnestly. "If you want me to stay, I'll stay."

She shook her head. "No," she repeated. "I think I gotta do this myself." She then turned to Harley's feed. "You too, Harley. You should go. The kiddos will be up soon."

Hearing Morgan mention him, Harley sprang back to life, giving a deep shoulder stretch. "Yeah, I suppose you're right," he said. He looked back to his computer screen, squinting at it, as though deciding what next to say.

"What is it?" Morgan asked.

His eyes glinted with excitement. "I've just been thinking ever since we unlocked the code," Harley said, "And, look, I totally get it if it's the best thing to disable the A.I, but on the off-chance that you decided _not_ to…" His voice trailed.

"Whatcha got cookin', Keener?" Tony asked with intrigue.

Harley raised an eyebrow. "What do you think about having a body?"

Tony considered this. "We talkin' _Westworld_ or _Blade Runner_?"

Harley motion to his own holofeed projection. "We're talking this," he said. "How'd you feel about a hologram?"

"Significantly better than an actual, physical body," he answered. "That would get weird real fast. Plus, like I said before, don't riff on a masterpiece."

Harley gave a small laugh and shook his head. "I mean it, whatever happens and whatever you guys decide, I'm cool with it. It was just a thought."

Morgan smiled sadly. "Maybe don't launch into it _just_ yet," she said. "I'll let you know what we decide."

Harley hesitated. "…okay…"

She narrowed her eyes. "You already figured it out, didn't you?"

Harley nonchalantly shrugged. "Merry Early Christmas?" he said. His gaze shifted to Tony's smart-table, growing somber. "Tony, seriously, in case this is the last time…" His voice trailed, still unsure of how to articulate his many turbulent feelings about his former mentor.

"Ah save it," Tony interrupted. "I'm not good with emotions and all that—"

"Thank you," Harley interrupted. "I…I wouldn't have any of this if you hadn't landed in my backyard."

"Yeah you would," Tony maintained simply. "You'd just have been homeless for awhile. Only difference."

Harley nodded slightly, absorbing the power of these words. His voice was heavy with emotion as he whispered, "Thank you." He took a deep breath, shifting to his two living companions. "Alright. Godspeed. Pete. Good luck with the opening. And Morg'?" he asked. "Call you tomorrow? I got some ideas for a new project."

Morgan was dumbfounded. Harley was actually arranging plans to talk with her, not the other way around for once! She stammered, "Uh…yeah! Given that, you know, Mom doesn't ground me for the next century."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," he reassured. He took a moment, looking between the inhabitants of the shed. With one final smile, he said, "Thanks for the memories, guys," and logged off.

With Harley gone, Peter took a deep breath and pulled up a chair, spinning it around so that he was sitting in it backwards. He faced the smart-table. "We haven't had a chance to talk, have we?"

"Yeah, and what is that about?" asked Tony incredulously. "You've been weirdly quiet, for being…well, you."

Morgan had never seen Peter look so happy as when he talked with her dad. He looked just as he did in that picture they kept by the sink. Was this what it used to be like?

"Did Fury end up bothering you?" Tony asked.

"Yep."

"Yeah, figured as much. What about the glasses?"

"He made sure I found them," he replied. He took a moment, then said earnestly, "Tony, can I ask you something? Even after I died you…you kept on planning to make me suits. Even back to the first suit…Karen…the Iron Spider…the picture in your kitchen. Why me? I've arrived at my own answers, but I want to hear it from you."

Tony paused. Finally, he said, "Parker, has it ever occurred to you that you're a generally likable person that people want to do things for? There doesn't need to be a grand design for everything."

Peter deflated slightly at this matter-of-fact response, but he seemed satisfied. Inwardly, this proved to him that this A.I. was truly Tony Stark's consciousness. The real Tony would never say why he had made him dozens of suit models, why he personally made technological advancements to his Spider-Man models that predated his own suits, or even why he ultimately designed his quantum accelerator. It was the same reason Tony had looked for Harley and paid for his house after the Decimation. Tony's love for his kids, biological or otherwise, was truly without limits.

"The suits, you make them yourself now?" Tony was now asking.

"Yeah."

"And your company…" he asked. "Sustainability, huh?"

Peter grinned. "My fiancée's idea."

"You don't say?" Tony exclaimed. "So who's the soon-to-be Mrs. Spider?"

Morgan excitedly chimed in, "You'd love her, dad! She's an activist!

Tony winced. "Ooh…not sure she'd like me, depending on what sort of activist we're talking."

Peter weakly laughed. "Yeah…she's not _super_ down for all the…let's say commercial aspects to what I do? But hey, we're helping the planet. Anyone can get behind that."

"And she's totally okay with the whole Spider-powers thing?"

"She figured it out before anyone else," he replied. "She keeps it all possible for me. I go between being 'Just Peter,' to Spider-Man, to Peter Parker every single day, and…I don't know. She's there for all of it."

"Gotta hand it to you," Tony commended. "I couldn't do it. That's why I just made it public right from the start."

Peter shook his head. "I can't help the people I help and have all of this be out in the open. So I'm going to keep it going as long as I can." His eyes grew distant as he said, "It's cost me a lot, doing this. A lot of people I've trusted have turned on me. There were times I thought I couldn't keep it up."

"Why did you?" Tony asked him.

"Someone had to do it," he said. "You left a gaping hole in the world when you died. And Steve left…"

"Steve left?!" asked Tony in disbelief.

"Yeah," Morgan told him. "He returned the stones and stayed in his own time period."

"Well I'll be damned," said Tony, impressed.

"Sam Wilson took over as Captain America," Peter explained. "Thor went off-world, Banner and Barton went into retirement, and with Natasha gone… somebody had to step up and make sure we could keep avenging the universe when it needed us most." He gave a satisfied nod. "And I mean, we're still here, so I guess it worked."

Silence fell between them. There wasn't anything Tony could say that could easily express the awe he felt at the legacy his mortal life had left behind. It was one thing to be commemorated with street names and parades, but keeping the Avengers alive ten years later was another thing entirely.

Karen's voice cut in. "Sorry to interrupt, Peter, but the car you ordered has arrived."

Taking a deep breath, Peter rose from his chair. "Well?" he said with a shrug. "In case this is the last time we talk…"

Tony interjected, "Good luck on the opening tomorrow, kid. If I'm still around at that time, I'll be watching the live stream. Expect an email in your inbox with my notes for improvement."

Peter smiled. "I wouldn't expect anything less, Tony." He turned, gathering up the folded, ratty contents of what had once been his tux and heading for the door. Morgan followed to walk him out. Before they left, Tony called after him, "Kid—Peter. I'm proud of you."

Peter closed his eyes, warming to the praise. "Then I've already succeeded. Bye, Tony."

As they walked to the waiting black car waiting at the end of the driveway, Morgan looked to Peter to gauge his reaction. Though he was still beaming, his eyes were distant, indicating that his thoughts were elsewhere. He opened the back door of the car, greeting his driver and tossing his clothes within. Turning back to Morgan, he wrapped her in a tight hug. "Whatever you choose to do, I'll be okay," Peter whispered in her ear. Pulling back, he looked earnestly into her eyes. "All I'm saying is, I ultimately got the suit back. And I was okay."

She furrowed her brow. What was he saying?

He used his index finger to lightly tap her chest where her heart was. "Figure out who you are and when you do, tell your parents. That's the only way you can have it both ways."

Her expression melted when she finally understood what he was telling her. "You think?" she asked him.

"I know," he maintained. He then took a deep "Alright. See you tonight, right?"

"Yeah," Morgan replied. "One way or another, I'll be there."

"And Harley said he's calling you tomorrow?"

"Uh huh," she replied.

"Mind if I come by? I gotta say I'm intrigued by what this 'project' is that he's got cooking up!"

Morgan's eyes nearly welled up with tears at this. All she could do was nod. She watched him get into the car, close the door, and drive off. She watched the car all the way until it disappeared into the thick of the forest. Her heart racing with what she still had left to do, she felt invigorated by the simple fact that she had a part of her family back that she had once thought was long since gone.

Turning back to her house, Morgan took a deep breath. Mom would be awake any moment now. There was no way around this. It was time to tell Pepper.


	9. Chapter 9 - The Truth

_Ow_! Her mind having wandered off, Morgan had nervously chewed her ring fingernail down too close to the nail bed. She recoiled in pain.

"Stop chewing your nails then," Tony scolded over the earpiece Morgan had used to eavesdrop on Peter and Harley's conversation earlier that morning.

Morgan huffed and folded her hands setting them down in front of her on the counter. She was still for only a moment…when her right leg began to bounce up and down rapidly.

"You're fidgeting," he commented.

"I know I am!" she hissed. "This is excruciating!"

"You have nothing to worry about," he said. "Just ease into it slowly, just like we practiced." He paused here, then said, "I have to admit, I'm actually pretty on edge myself."

Morgan smiled. "You ready to see her again?"

"No. Well—yeah. I'm not sure." Silence again, then he asked for what had been the third time in the past fifteen minutes, "…you're sure there's not…?"

"Yes, Dad," she said with a laugh. "Mom's not seeing anyone. Though if you keep asking me, I'm signing her up for a dating app tonight."

"I just want to make sure!" he protested. "I don't want to be hanging out, and suddenly, oh I dunno…_Dave_ comes walking down the stairs."

Morgan narrowed her eyes in amusement. "This 'Dave' someone you know?"

"We _all_ know a Dave."

"There's no Dave," she assured him. Somberly, she then asked, "You think she's going to be alright though, right? It's not gonna be too much of a shock?"

"Not if we do it like we said. You sure you got this?"

Morgan tightened her jaw as she heard the familiar creak of the stairs beneath her mother's feet as she descended from her bedroom. "Yeah," she said with determination. "I got this."

She held her breath as Pepper entered the kitchen. "Good morning," she said with a yawn. She took note of her daughter's disheveled appearance and still-wet hair. "Sleep well?" she pointedly asked.

Morgan nervously laughed. "Uh huh."

Pepper made her way over towards the coffee machine. Morgan's heart raced as her mind struggled to find the words to start the conversation she and Tony had rehearsed. She finally accepted that there was no easy way to begin, and that she would just have to tear the proverbial bandaid off and begin. She swallowed her apprehension and said, "Mom?"

Pepper groaned, noticing that the coffee machine had failed to brew the cup that was her morning ritual. "Friday?" she called, causing Morgan's stomach to plummet. "Coffee please!"

Nothing happened.

"Friday!" her mother commanded again.

"_Dad_!" Morgan hissed through her teeth. "_Go_!"

Suddenly, the coffee machine whirred to life, as Tony finally figured out how to operate it. Satisfied, Pepper turned back toward her daughter. "That was weird," she said. "Were you saying something?"

"Yeah, um…" Morgan stuttered. "I uh, well…so…you know how um…" She finally shook her head and started again. "Mom, there's something I gotta tell you." She looked up briefly to gauge her mother's reaction, but stopped entirely when she saw an amused smirk on her face.

"Morgan," she said. "It's okay, I know."

Morgan narrowed her eyes. "You…do?"

"You weren't exactly subtle about it," she said, crossing her arms. "Believe it or not, you can hear pneumatic tools through a deep sleep."

_The suit! Mom knows about the suit_! "Oh," Morgan said, laughing in relief. "No, I just—"

"It's okay," Pepper insisted, walking towards her daughter and reassuring her with a slight shoulder squeeze. "Look, it…worries me. I'm not gonna lie. But I knew it was something that you and Harley were working on together, and I trust him to act in your best interests. And it wasn't my place to interfere with that. You have the right to keep some things to yourself." She placed a hand under Morgan's chin. "And I see enough of your father in you to know when me trying to get to you stop _anything_ is fruitless." The coffeepot gave a small _ding_! signaling its completion. Pepper walked towards it but kept her eyes on her daughter. "You must be getting pretty far on it now. Enough to get Peter to come all the way up here."

Morgan started stammering again at the realization that her mother had seen them during the night. "Oh uh…yeah. He just was…dropping off a part for me." _Why are you lying, stupid?_ she thought to herself. _That's exactly what you're_ not _here to do_!

Pepper frowned as she poured the coffee into a cup. "Well that can't be all it was. I woke up when I heard him sneaking in through this window singing a song about stealth."

Morgan rolled her eyes. "Yeah, we…didn't _intend_ to bother you," she grimaced. "Did you end up falling back asleep?"

Cup in hand, Pepper turned back to Morgan. She nodded, "For the most part yeah. Until the 3 AM dance party." Her eyebrow raised, though her eyes still glinted with amusement. "Followed of course by the 4 AM crash that I was too afraid to investigate. Care to explain?"

Pepper was mid-sip when Morgan admitted, "I uh…launched a rocket through the roof?"

Fittingly, Pepper spat out her drink, though it wasn't in response to what Morgan had just said. She recoiled in disgust from the coffee. "Friday, what's going on? This coffee is awful!"

Morgan's heart stopped. Tony, unable to say anything lest he reveal himself, remained silent.

"Friday?" Pepper called again to no response. "Okay, what is going on? Status report!"

"Mom…" Morgan said, trying to calm her down.

"Status report!" she tried again.

Silence.

Pepper put down the cup and marched past Morgan to the living room's smart-table. Pepper laid her palm on the glass to wake it up. Instead of Friday's green interface, Tony's red projected across the surface.

"Mom!" Morgan called, chasing after her. "Wait!"

Pepper was bewildered at the unfamiliar sight. "What _is_ this?" she turned to her daughter. "Did you know about this?"

"Mom, don't freak out," Morgan said again, holding her hands out defensively in attempts to calm her down. "Friday's gone."

Pepper's face twisted. "Oh no, no, no," she said determinedly, turning back to the table. She swiped her hands back and forth rapidly, accessing the diagnostics screen to try to undo this new revelation. She turned her head slightly back to Morgan, hissing, "Is this your doing?"

"In a way, yes, but…"

"Okay," Pepper snapped. "Call Harley up right now. He's the only one who can even hope to fix this."

"Mom, please!"

"We're not going anywhere until this is resolved!" she insisted. "You have to be careful, Morgan! If you're messing around with tech you don't understand, you could wind up getting into a lot of trouble!"

"But Mom—"

"Why aren't you calling Harley, like I asked?" She repeated, "We're not leaving until you bring her back."

"Okay," Tony said, heard only by Morgan through her earpiece. "So this is _not_ going according to plan…"

"Oh you think?!" said Morgan sardonically to him. "Feel free to step in any time!"

"Wha—who are you talking to?!" said a bewildered Pepper.

"Mom," Morgan pleaded in exasperation. "No one can bring her back. Friday is gone!"

Pepper was taken aback. "Why are you so unwilling to try?"

"Why are you so_ fixated_ on it?"

"Because it's all of him we have left!" Pepper blurted. She took a moment to compose herself, pressing her hands together and folding them over her mouth. Her voice shaking with intensity, she said, "All of what your father built are just things. Lifeless objects that are rotting out there in that garage. But Friday was…" Her voice trailed as she laughed at the irony of what she was about to say. "Friday was _real_. She contained some of his…his life." She shook her head sadly. "We can't lose her."

Morgan looked at her mother mournfully. She had felt much the same way about Friday's importance in her life, but given the reason_ why_ she had been deactivated, there was infinitely more of Tony's life in her replacement. "Friday's gone for a reason, Mom," she whispered.

The smart-table gave a warm, red glow as Tony's voice filled the room. "Hey, Pep'," he said.

Morgan watched as her Mother's stern expression melted away. Tears filled her eyes at the sound of her husband's voice. Again, she placed her hands over her mouth. The tears fell freely as she shook her head. "No," she whispered, starting at Morgan. "No, Morgan. No…this is wrong."

Morgan felt panic rise inside her. "No, Mom, I didn't do this!"

She tried to rush to her, but Pepper put out her hands defensively. "No!" she sobbed. "This is just _wrong_. You might have meant well, but you can't do this to me!"

"It's Dad!" Morgan cried desperately. "Dad did this before he died!"

"Pepper, it's true," Tony tried again.

"Stop this, Morgan," Pepper begged. "Take this back. It's _wrong_!"

"The blue dress," Tony said softly.

Pepper froze, barely breathing in fear that she might have misheard him. "What?" she whispered.

"The blue dress at the gala. The backless one. A stunner. The night we had our first dance. You were overthinking everything, as per usual. We never got to have that drink though, did we?"

The tears continued to stream down her face as she whispered, "No."

"It was a…oh. Was it a vodka martini? Am I remembering that right? You wanted it dry with…three olives, if memory serves."

She looked over at Morgan in complete shock. Morgan tearfully nodded to confirm that it was indeed Tony. Pepper cleared her throat. "I said _at least_ three olives," she teased, confirming an answer no one else but her husband could possibly know.

"Ah, my mistake," he said gently. "Pepper Potts, I may not be able to brew you a decent cup of a coffee, but I will give you all the olives you could possibly hope to consume. And maybe a vodka martini. You know…as garnish to the olives."

"Yeah?" she laughed through her tears. "I think I'll just take the drink. I think I need one right now." She looked at Morgan in shock. "How is this possible? Why..." She leaned on the back of the sofa for support, now addressing the A.I. She visibly struggled with referring to the interface by his name. "Tony?" she said with great difficulty. "Why did you do this?"

"In case of emergency. Thought a backup might be useful in case you know...I fried the hell out of myself for the sake of the universe. Contingency plan."

Pepper's face grew red with fury. "What is _wrong_ with you?" she yelled.

"What?!"

"Why wouldn't you tell us you made this in that in the goodbye message you left?" she shouted. "You don't think we could have used you around?!"

"Well, I mean, wouldn't it have been a little soon?" Tony protested.

"Well it's a little LATE now!"

"Yeah that makes a lot of sense—" Tony scoffed. "'Tony Stark's funeral, as hosted by Tony Stark?!' It needed room to breathe."

Pepper was irate. "So you left this a secret for dramatic effect?"

"No!"

"Because that's what I'm hearing!"

"Okay, okay!" Tony repeated in attempts to calm her down. "Look, I'm sorry. I...I thought this should exist in case you really needed me. And I didn't want it out in the public in case someone tried to take advantage of it. It's been ten years since I made this, and no one has even attempted A.I. consciousness replication yet. If this got out, you two would be at the center of everything, and that's the last thing you need right now. Plus it opens up a lot of morally ambiguous questions regarding the ethics of artificial intelligence..." he said. "And honestly, Pep', I was never worried about you. I knew you were going to be okay without me. Hell, you were probably better off. That's why I left clues for Morgan to find. I thought if anyone needed me, it would be her."

Pepper took this all in, her eyes distant and unfocused. "So what happens now?" she asked him. "You…run the house? Set up appointments? Call a plumber?"

"I can do everything Friday or JARVIS did," he answered.

Pepper narrowed her eyes skeptically. "Yeah, but _will_ you? These are all things you couldn't be bothered to do when you were alive."

"Well, my programming mandates I do what you ask," he admitted. "That doesn't mean I won't complain the entire time I do so."

Pepper rolled her eyes with a smile. To Morgan, she said, "It really is his voice. It's incredible." She gazed at her daughter in awe. "So you did this? You found him?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Well…with Peter and Harley's help."

"How did you figure it out?" Pepper asked.

Morgan then took a deep breath and told her mother everything. All of it. She began with the toy, the start of her journey. She then told her about the suit, how she and Harley had found Tony's hard drive of plans and had worked for months to create a perfect replica. She told her how she had assembled her friends to help uncover Tony's clues, his codes, and the "S.O.N.G," therein leading to the ultimate prize. She divulged all the details of how she had hacked into Rhodey's laptop, ordered the HJ-6895 missile, and how she had set it off and destroyed it with her suit midair. Pepper had taken it all in silently as she listened to her tell it, her eyebrows traveling higher and higher as the tale became more outlandish and unbelievable. Finally, the only thing left to tell was the fallout of what had occurred. Morgan had been chattering without hardly taking a breath, afraid that if she did, it would leave the A.I. room to interject and begin his case for why it was the best idea that they disconnect from his service. But now was that point in the story where this discussion had to take place, and if there was no way around it, Morgan vowed that she would be the one to at least start it.

She began with an apology. "Mom, I'm sorry," Morgan sorrowfully said, collapsing next to her against the back of the sofa, her shoulders slumped. "I should have told you all of this all along. I just…there were so many reasons for me not to say anything about the suit or the clues…I got in too deep and I couldn't turn back." She looked up at her. "I know it was wrong and I'm sorry."

"Morgan," Pepper began, placing a comforting hand on her daughter's back. "I already told you that I didn't mind as long as you had Harley or Peter looking out for you. I'm not too terribly _thrilled_ about the near-death experience you had tonight," she pointedly scolded. "But I think the thing I don't understand is why you kept this away from all of us," she said, motioning to Tony's interface. "Why did you keep this inside for so long?"

Morgan couldn't bring herself to look at her as she admitted in a murmur, "It's been really hard for me, Mom. Being me means that I get treated like I'm not a normal person. I spend most of my days at school alone. It's always been that way."

Pepper was stunned at this news. "Why didn't you tell me? I didn't know!"

Morgan shrugged. "You already have to deal with so much already. It doesn't really matter in the long run."

"It does!" she insisted. "Morgan, you've been feeling poorly for years and haven't said a word to anyone! That's awful!" She shook her head. "It's no wonder you turned to building the suits and burying yourself in work!"

"Well that's just it," Morgan continued, "I messed up, Mom. Instead of focusing on what makes me _me_, I instead put all of myself into trying to be like Dad." She looked to her father's interface, patiently hovering over the smart-table, listening to them talk. "Dad, you were right. I was so desperate to have you in my life that when I actually made it happen, I completely gave up on myself. I want to have my own life, I _so badly do_," she insisted, "But it was just safer to keep myself tied to what I know. And what I know is you."

She stood up, placing herself between her parents. She tightened her jaw, feeling her heart pound in her chest as she gazed at the A.I. "I like physics, Dad," she said. "I'm really good at it. I suck at chemistry and I really suck at anything physical, particularly aiming repulsor blasts." She snorted. "More reasons why an HJ missile was a bad idea." She continued, "I like old school rock, punk, and metal music. Not just because you did. You just happened to have really good taste." She searched her mind for any other various details she could scare up about herself. "I…I like paddle boarding on the pond, I like fruit-based ice cream, I like wearing oversized sweatshirts, and I'm super allergic to dogs, which really sucks." She looked between the table and her mom, who was now sporting a kind smile. "I like flying," she said with a grin. "Dad, you saw how good I was. I love the way it feels, I love the power of going faster than I ever thought possible." She set her jaw determinedly. This was the moment. This is exactly what Peter had prepared her for. "I've thought a lot about astronautical engineering. There's this one engineer," she said excitedly, "She's singlehandedly taken space science to another level. I've watched hundreds of her talks online. If I could study with her one day…" Her voice trailed as she shook her head, as if the very thought of her one day having that opportunity was too overwhelming to vocalize aloud.

Morgan walked slowly towards Tony's table, staring at it. "Dad, you were in space twice, both times only to keep attackers away from our world. I want to take what you started and use it to expand our knowledge of the universe!" she exclaimed. "If people like Thor and the Asgardians and Carol Danvers…and even Thanos have taught us anything, it's that Earth is behind the times. We don't even know what's out there! Not even after everything that's happened!" She stopped, reeling in her impassioned speech with one final statement. "I don't know, I just think that…if I even had a small part in that, I'd be happy." She shrugged again. "_That's_ who I am."

Tony seemed taken aback at all she had said. "Well then," he said. "It's nice to finally meet you, Morgan." Morgan's chest swelled with pride. "Hey Pepper," Tony said to his wife, "I think you raised a pretty amazing kid."

"There's only so much of that that I could control," she said softly. "All of that comes solely from herself." She shook her head. "Morgan, I had no idea about any of this."

"I'm not even sure _I_ did," Morgan admitted. She suddenly became quite somber as she said, "Dad thinks it might be best if we continue on without his A.I. for exactly that reason; it might prevent us from moving on." She paused, correcting herself with, "It might prevent _me_ from moving on."

"I'm only here in a sense," the A.I. explained. "I'm not speaking to you from beyond the grave. I'm not some sort of Force Ghost. This is Tony's consciousness up to a point."

"I accept that," Pepper said. "Why would that be a cause to disconnect the A.I. entirely?"

"Because this was always meant to be temporary." Tony paused, gently stating, "He recorded a message that he wanted me to play to you both. Would you like me to access it?"

Pepper and Morgan looked at each other in alarm, both answering "yes" simultaneously and drawing close to on another.

"Accessing video message recorded April 4, 2023," recited the A.I.

The smart-table flickered, then projected a hologram image of Tony. Morgan felt the air leave her chest upon seeing her father's likeness before her. She had studied every piece of media he had ever appeared in for hours on end. And even though she had been speaking directly to his consciousness for hours now, seeing a brand new, never-before-seen video archive of him was something else entirely. In the video, he was sitting at his work bench in the garage. When he saw his recording begin, he clapped his hands together then held them out to his side triumphantly. "He-hey!" he cheered, "If you're seeing this, that means that this actually worked. The A.I. Me uploaded and Morgan probably figured it out! No offense, Pepper, but I doubt you have time to play with toys." To this, Pepper laughed and tightened her grip on Morgan. "Morgan, nice work. I didn't make it easy, so if you found this at all, it's probably been a couple of years." His expression changed as he said, "It also means that I didn't make it back. I promised myself I'd disable this guy if I did. Too dangerous otherwise." He brightened again as he stared back into the camera. "Listen, I'm making this for you guys on a whim. Just in case you need to hear my voice every once and awhile. It shouldn't malfunction but if it does, the intent was to upload a version of my consciousness. He's fully operational at the time I'm recording this. I've tested his memory file and it's all checking out. We even already got into an argument, and yes, it was just as petty as you're imagining." His face suddenly twisted in pain as he said, "I figure that since I'm gone, you caught my goodbye video that I left in the Mark LXXXV, so I don't need to get all sappy or anything. You're past that. I'm past that. I'm tired of saying preemptive, corny farewells. What I want you to know is this—this A.I. I've got, the one that's currently playing this for you, is meant to be temporary. Pepper, maybe you've already moved on to some other billionaire who doesn't drive you up the wall like I did, but of course is nowhere near as attractive. You can pretend all day long, but we both know I was your one true love. It's fine, we get it." He then set aside all joking to earnestly state, "Morgan, maybe there will come a time when you're ready to let me go. Whatever it is and whenever it is, it's okay. I designed the A.I. not to fight when you disable it. It shouldn't beg for its life, nor should you feel guilty for doing so. I'm gone. This is just…I don't know, catharsis? Or, more likely, the manifestation of my frustration that I didn't get to use something I made myself. I gotta tell you," he said with a grin. "I'm pretty proud of this one. So enjoy it until it's outworn its welcome. It's my gift to you."

Morgan stared through teary eyes one last time at her father's face as he took a deep breath and said, "Alrighty. Friday, end video." The screen went black and was replaced by the A.I.'s red light. Morgan looked to her mother, whose still had a hand placed over her mouth in disbelief. She shook her head slightly. "I can't believe he did this," she murmured. She looked at her daughter proudly. "And I still can't believe you figured it out." After a moment in silence between the family, Pepper voiced the question on everyone's minds. "So…where does that leave us?"

"It's your decision," stated Tony. "Totally up to you."

Pepper deferred to her daughter. "Morgan?" she asked. "What do you think?"

"Me?" Morgan asked incredulously. "I shouldn't get a say! I'm the one who blew up the roof! I'm the one who lied to you! I don't deserve…him. Plus, it's Dad, but also it's not really him? You have more say than I do."

Pepper considered this for a moment then said, "I watched your father die. I held him in my arms. In my heart, he's gone. I have accepted that. The last thing I told him was that we would be okay without him." She shook her head sadly. "Clearly, we weren't, because one half of our family unit was hurting and the other had no idea. Morgan, in just five minutes you expressed more ambition for your own future than I've ever heard from you in your entire _life_. Maybe this isn't a bad thing for you. Maybe this was exactly the push you needed."

"Pepper," Tony said. "What about you?"

"Yeah, Mom," echoed Morgan. "If he stayed, would that be weird for you?"

Pepper smiled sadly. "I built this house for you, Tony. If you go, it will be like it's been for the past ten years, and I'll be fine. But should you stay, to come back here at end of every day and get to talk to you, to hear your voice first thing when I wake up…" She shrugged. "It would make it home again."

Morgan beamed. Turning to the table, she asked the A.I. to stay with just simply, "Dad?"

When he finally answered her, he said pensively, "I just took a look at your browser history. And besides some serious questions about the amount of cat videos you watch, I think I located your astronautical physicist. Dr. Monica Rambeau, is that it?"

Morgan was astonished. "Yes!" she cried.

"I've got her contact information," he said nonchalantly. "Should we draft up an email?"

Morgan's eyes welled up. "So you'll stay?"

At that moment, a ringing tone sounded throughout the house. "Ooh," Tony exclaimed in amusement. "Impeccable timing: I'm getting an incoming call from the one and only James Rhodes."

Morgan felt her face grow hot as she felt her mother look over at her expectantly. She remained silent. Pepper finally said, "Put him through." Tony did. Once the connection tone sounded, Pepper cooed, "Heyyyy Rhodey."

A curt Rhodey briskly replied, "Hey Pepper. Sorry to bother, but I just had a fascinating conversation with the feds, who came knocking on my door at 5 AM saying a missile I ordered was detonated over Albany last night." Again, Pepper shot a look at Morgan, causing her to inch even further down into couch in shame. Rhodey continued, "I'd never even_ heard_ of this missile, so you can imagine my surprise. But we do a bit of digging, and sure enough, I've put in an order, addressed to your house. So at this point, I look like a terrorist who has a death wish for a friend. We do a bit _more_ digging. Right around midnight, the missile disappears from a shipping dock. Eight members of the mafia were found tied together courtesy of bondage that could only come from our mutual pal Spider-Man. So then we do a bit MORE digging, and surveillance footage shows none else but an Iron Man suit go blasting out of the sky as soon as this missile, the same one that I have no memory of ordering, explodes into a billion pieces." Rhodey let out an exasperated breath. "You putting two and two together here?"

Pepper raised her eyebrow and held a hand out towards the smart-table, motioning for Morgan to take over. Sheepishly, Morgan leaned toward the table, squeaking, "Yeah, Uncle Rhodey. It was me. I'm sorry."

"Morgan, what's the matter with you?" he replied.

"I know."

Rhodey was so incensed that he was stammering. "I can't even begin—Pepper, did you know about this?"

"I just found out," she replied.

"The...you mean to tell...why in the world!" Rhodey was exclaiming in a fit of rage.

"Rhodey! Rhodey! RHODEY!" Tony shouted over him. Morgan shared an astonished look with her mother, but they both let whatever chaos was about to ensue unfold silently. "Lay off, will ya?" he said. "I recall us pulling a lot crazier antics at MIT, pal. Remember when we thought it'd be a great idea to try to build a nuclear reactor while inebriated and ended up knocking out an entire floor's worth of windows at three in the morning?"

So distracted by his anger was Rhodey, however, that Tony's voice didn't initially faze him. "Don't even start with tha—" His words froze in his mouth once his brain finally caught up to what his ears had just heard. "What the hell was that?!" he cried.

Pepper leaned closer to the smart-table. Diplomatically, as though on a business call, she said, "Maybe you better come over, Rhodey. I'll send Happy to come pick you up. He should be actually here too. How's twenty minutes? Does that work for you?"

"Pepper!" Rhodey yelled. "_What the hell just happened?_!"

Pepper grinned. "Twenty minutes? That's great!"

"Do not hang up this call. DO NOT—"

Tony hung up the call. Thrilled with himself, he mused, "I like this."

A surge of excitement, terror, and relief simultaneously coursed through Morgan's body. "This is really happening…" she said, looking between her parents. "Dad? You're gonna stay?"

Warmly, Tony's voice said, "Yeah. I'll stay, Morguna."


	10. Chapter 10 - The Future

Ms. Washington of Midtown Tech's Contemporary History Class was a nervous woman, who had little reign over her class on even a good day. "Attention?" she cried out over her boisterous students. "Quiet down, please! The bell has rung!"

She went unheard. Or if she was heard, no one could be bothered to stop and pay her any mind. Usually, she would relent, beginning her lecture quietly to only herself until slowly, the students grew bored and quieted down only out of reluctant obligation. Today, however, the lesson plan has shifted significantly, so Ms. Washington was unsure of what to do. Finally, she became so wound up that she shouted out, "QUIET!" All sound ceased at once, and the students leapt at this outburst. "Sorry," she then whispered. Her face pale as she nervously wrung her hands, she stammered, "Now, according to the lesson plan, today we're going to be learning about the Decimation and the subsequent Recovery five years later." She took a big gulp. "Now, all of you are just barely too young to have been immediately impacted firsthand by the snap, but every single one of us knows people who were. So we need to remember to treat this subject with the utmost sensitivity." Her eyes nervously hovered across the faces of her now deathly silent class until they landed on Morgan, who was sitting straight-backed and attentive. "And," continued Ms. Washington shakily, "It just so happens that we have a person in this class who was very impacted by these events, Ms. Morgan Stark, who as I'm sure you know, is the daughter of the hero Tony Stark."

Morgan shifted slightly in her seat when she felt the heat of over thirty pairs of eyes suddenly on her. _Breathe_, she thought to herself. _You've got this._ She pushed up her glasses, that kept sliding down the bridge of her nose. She was unaccustomed to them. Did they make her look weird, she wondered. Did anyone notice?

Ms. Washington was now saying, "Morgan has graciously offered to give a presentation about her father for us today, so please give her your full attention."

"Pssh!" Tony's voice sounded from Morgan's high tech earpiece, hidden deep within her ear canal as to be unnoticed. Morgan moved her head slightly to the right so that Ms. Washington was no longer in the center of her vision, but to her left. This scanning movement revealed Tony, leaning casually against the whiteboard with his arms crossed over his chest. No matter how often she wore her new glasses, she didn't think she'd ever white get used to seeing him. Because of Harley's invention, whenever she accessed the A.I. whether in her home or via these glasses, he appeared lifelike, almost identical to reality were it not for the greenish tinge and overall digital sheen to his figure, denoting that he was indeed a hologram. The glasses and earpiece, when combined, allowed for no one but Morgan to see and hear her father whenever she wore them. The A.I. himself had several versions of Tony's appearance to choose from depending on his preference, and today he had picked a smart double-breasted suit to accompany Morgan to school. When he saw Morgan's eyes find him, he raised his eyebrows sardonically. "'Graciously offered,'" he scoffed, walking over to where Ms. Washington stood and staring intently at her, though completely invisible to everyone except his daughter. "See, I remember that conversation very differently…"

Morgan struggled to keep herself from smiling at the memory of Tony calling Midtown's principal, posing as a Stark lawyer and threatening to sue the entire school board on the pretense of denying Morgan the right to an education if she hadn't been permitted to be in this class today.

"Shhh…" Morgan whispered almost inaudibly. "You promised you'd behave."

Tony pursed his lips. "I _am_ being-'have," he protested.

"Morgan?" Ms. Washington said expectantly, motioning for her to come to the front of the class. Morgan gulped, shaking as she rose to approach the lectern. Ms. Washington took an empty seat in the back of the auditorium, joining the blankly staring crowd, who were utterly fixated by whatever was about to happen next. Because she had been so sheltered from any mentioning of her father from every school she had ever attended, no one knew what to expect from the "daughter of Iron Man."

Upon reaching the lectern, Morgan looked up, scanning the crowd through her glasses until she found Tony wandering the aisles. "You got this," he said, hoisting a triumphant and encouraging thumbs-up above his head. "I'll be right here, deciding which of your classmates I want to wreak havoc on." He looked up at her. "Who do you hate? I'll sit on 'em!"

With a suppressed grin, Morgan took a deep breath, donned a confident air, and began. "So I was going to make a presentation," Morgan began, "But then I thought that a lot of you probably already know a lot about my dad. He wasn't exactly a private person, nor was he that secretive. So I think the better thing to do is to ask me questions. Whatever you've wanted to know! Ask away!"

"Erhm…" coughed Ms. Washington nervously, "That's…fine, I suppose, just class, please make sure your questions are appropriate and delicate, alright?"

Morgan shook her head slightly. "Ask me anything," she insisted.

For a moment, the class was silent. Everyone was scared to say something insensitive for fear of how she might react. Could they _really_ ask her _anything_? Finally, after about a full minute of this, a tentative hand rose above the crowd, belonging to a typically soft-spoken boy. "Did…did your dad really survive twenty-two days alone on a stranded spaceship without food or water?"

Tony had seated himself in the chair Morgan once sat in. "Ooh. Startin' strong, I dig it. Not alone, not entirely without food or water but we got there. But I like his version better. Stick with that!" he told her.

"His supplies eventually ran out, and he was extremely malnourished when he arrived back on Earth, but yes, he was really in a bad spot for that long. He did have Nebula, and then later Captain Marvel to keep him company though," Morgan translated for him.

"I said I liked his version better!" protested an indignant Tony.

A girl Morgan usually perceived as being utterly disinterested in school altogether raised her hand. "Why did your dad sign the Sokovia Accords, but Steve Rogers didn't?"

"Boring!" Tony answered. "Wikipedia it. Wait…does Wikipedia still exist?" His eyes went distant for a millisecond as he searched the answer to his question himself, then he replied, "Nope. It's definitely still around somehow. Huh."

Morgan ignored her father. "The first Captain America, Steve Rogers, and my dad disagreed about the role of government in superheroes."

"Steve Rogers decided to be a drama queen about the whole thing…" continued Tony.

Again ignoring him, Morgan instead said, "Steve Rogers decided that independence more suited his style."

"…'because he was a drama queen!' Say it!" demanded Tony.

"But my dad was worried about the real-world impact if superheroes went unregulated." She then shot a pointed look at her father as she said emphatically through gritted teeth, "He was worried that the government might find them _unhelpful_ and _irritating_, and that _they might as well go home_ if they were only going to _cause a distraction_."

Tony stood, approaching Morgan while holding his hands up apologetically. "Okay, okay. I'll stop. I'll take this seriously." Now at her side, he folded his arms behind his back expectantly. "Who's next?"

Morgan next called on a very obnoxious classmate named Shaun that Morgan had the great misfortune of sharing nearly every single class with. "How did your dad figure out the quantum mechanics of the time portal?"

Morgan shifted her head only slightly toward her father, waiting for his response.

"First of all," he said, "It's not a 'time portal,' it's a quantum accelerator. And I took a big ol' page out of Hank Pym and Janet Van Dyne's book in microphysics."

"He built the quantum accelerator based on the work of Janet Van Dyne and Hank Pym," Morgan repeated to the class.

Tony continued, "Van Dyne spent decades in the quantum realm, dodging time vortices. It was Lang who thought to actually manipulate them for a set purpose."

"Scott Lang thought to use time vortices advantageously to create a sort of time machine," said Morgan.

"I expanded Pym's quantum tunnel into a kinetic, Mobius strip pattern to generate enough power to transport several people at concurrently."

"Dad used a kinetic, Mobius strip pattern to update Pym's quantum tunnel so that the Avengers could all travel at once."

Shaun looked mildly satisfied with this very scientific answer, but was on the edge of his seat to catapult into another, more inflammatory question he had clearly been wondering for years. "And is it true that your dad's body exploded when he made the Recovery happen, and the government has been trying to piece his body back together for the past ten years?!"

"Shaun!" reprimanded Ms. Washington. "That is unacceptable!"

"OOH," said Tony winced with a laugh. "I like Shaun! Oh please say yes, Morgan. Please, please, please… I wanna see this kid's mind get blown!"

Morgan couldn't help but laugh out loud. "No, it's okay Ms. Washington," she said. "Shaun…no. My dad was perfectly intact."

"Where is he buried then?"

"It's classified," Morgan swiftly said, taking immense pleasure in the chorus of impressed "ooh's" that emerged from her classmates at her steadfast and mysterious reply.

The questions began pouring out one after another after that moment.

"Did your mom really fight in the Recovery battle?"

"What age was your dad when he took over Stark Industries?"

"How did he figure out how to make the suit fly?"

"How many Avengers have you met?"

Morgan was taken aback by this one, as this was the first question directed to herself, and was greeted to a few cheers and echoes of, "Yeah!" and "Who do you know?" "Um," she stammered. "I…technically have met pretty much all of them at one point or another, I suppose. After my dad died, all of the Avengers up until that time came to his funeral. But I was really little though. There are only a few I regularly see, and even fewer that I would call my friends."

This sent the entire room aflutter with wild speculation.

"Are you friends with Thor?"

"Is it Captain Marvel?"

"What about Bucky Barnes?"

"Do you know Spider-Man?"

"Careful now," said Tony. "Don't get too chatty."

"You guys have mentioned one of my friends," answered Morgan with a mischievous smirk.

"It's gotta be Spider-Man!" one kid yelled. "He works here in Manhattan!"

Morgan only shrugged, feigning ignorance. "Next question?" she asked.

A quiet girl with jet black hair who had always been polite to Morgan, but had usually kept her distance, raised her hand. Her voice was kind as she carefully asked, "What's the one thing you think was the coolest thing about your dad?"

Another personal question. Morgan thought about this for a minute. From the side of her glasses, she could see Tony crossing his arms and awaiting her reply with an intrigued grin, awaiting her response. Finally, she answered, "Well…he was so cool in so many ways, so that's really hard to answer. He liked the very best music. He built eighty-five versions of the same suit in his lifetime. He established scholarships, and expos, and technological advancements that changed so many people's lives. He also saved the universe, so I mean I guess that's pretty neat," she said jokingly. "But for me, I think the coolest thing was something I only found about a year ago, when I discovered that he left me a scavenger hunt for me to find after he went away."

The class began to murmur excitedly at this. Another student asked, "Did you finish it?"

Morgan took a moment before she answered. She looked over to her dad and shared a smile with him as she answered, "You know, I'm actually still working on it, I think. It's a long process that's still unfolding, but I think I might finally be starting to get the hang of it."

"Yeah you are," Tony corroborated, his eyes reflecting the immense pride he felt toward his daughter.

"Any other questions?" Ms. Washington asked. From her tone, it was apparent she was ready to end Morgan's presentation before there became a chance for any further controversial questions like Shaun's to arise.

There was silence for a moment, but then the dark-haired girl raised her hand again. When Morgan called on her, she twisted her face uncertainly. "I hope this isn't too…inappropriate," she said with hesitation, "And if it is, you don't have to answer, but…do you feel sad when you think about what he sacrificed?"

Tony again was quiet, waiting for Morgan to take the reins. She tackled the difficult question like a pro. "That's not inappropriate at all," she assured her. "The sadness never really goes away. But I mean, that's not just a me thing. Everyone has lost somebody or will lose somebody at some point. That's just what grief does. Some days it hurts, some days it doesn't."

"Does it make you sad to talk about him?" the girl again asked. "Like, this, for example. Is it weird for you?"

"Not at all," Morgan swiftly replied. She again glanced to Tony. "I love my dad. And so does everyone. In a way, he gave Iron Man away freely to everybody, so we all owned a piece of him. I can't believe he's my dad, and I'm really proud to say I'm his daughter."

Tony beamed, coming around so that he was standing at her side. "Love you too, kiddo," he said warmly. Looking out at the enraptured group of classmates before them, Tony said to Morgan, "Mission accomplished, I think. You have officially demystified your peers. Congratulations, you are now nothing special."

A wave of relief rushed through Morgan at this. Never before did not feeling special feel so damn satisfying.

"I think we have time for one more question," Ms. Washington squeaked from the back of the class.

A tall boy who was sitting in the back row of the auditorium had been seemingly distracted for the entirety of Morgan and Tony's presentation, completely engrossed in his laptop. Morgan had assumed he just simply wasn't interested in what she had to say, but all of a sudden, at Ms. Washington's announcement for one final query, his hand shot up. Morgan took his question, to which he surprisingly stood up, holding his computer in his hands and facing her. "I've got one for you," he announced, pressing the spacebar on his keyboard.

Morgan's face went white with shock when his screen started playing the captured surveillance footage of her Iron Man suit shooting the missile over Albany. The whole of the class spun around in their seats to watch the video as it played on loop. Morgan would dive beneath the rocket, turn her body, take aim at the missile, wherein an explosion would occur and her suit would fall lifeless out of the frame before repeating again and again.

"Is this you?" the boy asked in fascination.

Again, a dozens of eyes shifted back to her, expectantly.

Morgan's eyes flicked to where her dad stood via her hologram glasses. Desperately, the gaze communicated, _Help! What do I do?!_

Tony was annoyingly calm, even somewhat amused. His hand stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Look," he said. "I think we all know what I'd do if it was me…"

Morgan huffed. _Not helpful_. "Uh…" she stammered, giving a pointed glare towards her dad. Finally, panicking, she blurted, "No. That's not me! It's just some fan wanting to make a replica suit. We see that all the time…" Her voice trailed. No, this wasn't right.

Her eyes once again flicked back to Tony. One side of his mouth turned up in a crooked, knowing smile. She mirrored him, her thoughts precisely matching his.

"Eh, screw it," she said. "Yeah, that was me." With a quick double tap to the side of her glasses, instantly, nanobots rippled from them, cascading over her face and surrounding her body to form a sleek, size-appropriate metallic design that was solely silver and gold in color, with dark red illumination throughout. The class erupted in a cacophony of awe and utter surprise, rushing to the front of the room to get a closer look, while Ms. Washington was frozen in stunned silence still at the back of the classroom, having lost all semblance of control over her pupils. Morgan was now peppered on all sides by questions and curious pokes and prodding.

"Wait, how does nanotech work?"

"What sort of weaponry do you have?"

"What speeds can you get?"

"How long did this take you to build?"

Tony's A.I. was now back inside the suit with her via his interface. Morgan was nearly in tears of joy at their excitement over her brand new suit that she had spent the last two weeks building with Harley and Peter under Tony's supervision. "I think they like it," said Tony.

"Yeah," she whispered. "I think that just about sealed the deal, huh?"

The questions continued, and Morgan tried to concisely answer them all one by one.

"Does it fly?"

"Hell yeah, it does!"

"Did you build it yourself?"

"I did, but I couldn't have done it without KeenerTech's modeling and construction."

"How many do you have?"

"This is my second. I'm calling it the Mark 3.2."

One question, however, caused the others to come to a halt as they awaited Morgan's answer: "So…are you the next Iron Man, then?"

Morgan stopped, considering this. Slowly, her mouth upturned into a large grin.

"Well?" Tony asked her. "They're waiting."

"No," she finally replied to her class. For the first time, she said with complete confidence, "I am Morgan Stark."

* * *

**Hey all! Thank you so, so, SO much for reading! Even though I'm sure we're never getting it in the MCU, I am such a fan of A.I. Tony's precedence as established by the comics, so thanks for humoring me with this little "what if" fic, if all of Tony's "kids" worked together to find his consciousness. **

**This fic was originally supposed to be five short chapters, but it is because of YOU that it doubled in size! I am overwhelmed by your feedback, and really touched that there are certain parts of the world I created that you want to see more of. This ending with the slight time jump and sole focus on the emotional linchpin that is Tony and Morgan's relationship is how I always set out to end it, but I know there's quite a few of you who also care a whole lot about some of the other dynamics with other characters. **

**SO. If you want more, please let me know via the reviews! I am definitely tossing around the idea of "deleted scenes" of sorts exploring these specific moments within this story. So if there's something you feel you'd like to see more of or maybe something I didn't fully explore, definitely tell me what you want to see! **

**Again, I'm over the moon at the response to this fic! Thanks so much for reading!**

**ILY3k **

**-JJJ **


	11. DS - Take Your Husband to Work Day P1

**Hello, all! Thank you so much for your Deleted Scene requests! I got some really exciting prompts that I'm really stoked to start posting. Several of you wanted to see a greater focus on Pepperony, as their relationship is just the perfect blend of romantic, electric, and temperamental. Tony's A.I. has a purpose in revealing something deep about all our living characters, and I wanted the same to go for Pepper- what has she been missing out on over the past decade, and how can Tony's renewed presence help guide her? **

**For your reference, this scene takes place after Chapter 10, and therefore after Peter, Harley, Morgan, and a surprise appearance by a character we already know from the movies help build Tony's A.I. hologram. The setting is around Christmastime. **

**Hope you enjoy! Here's Part 1! **

**\- JJJ**

* * *

Tony didn't need to sleep anymore. One of the many perks of being a computer — no more wasting time in an unconscious state for hours on end. What was once considered "insomnia" for him was now just a part of his new state of being. Though every day since being uploaded had been gloriously different, every night was the same: Dinner with his wife and daughter, talking until Pepper went to bed, saying goodnight to Pepper, saying goodnight to Morgan, returning to the living room smart table, returning to Morgan's room, finding that Morgan was not there, going to the shed, yelling at Morgan to go to bed, returning to the living room, returning to Morgan's room, yelling at Morgan again for not going to bed, waiting there indignantly until Morgan finally went to bed, returning to the living room…research.

The first thing he had done during these long nights of endless browsing was check up on the fate of his friends: Steve Rogers died peacefully in his sleep at the age of 110. Buried in London next to Margaret Carter. Rumored to be survived by their two children. Identities unknown, sexes unknown, ages unknown…abilities? Unknown. Thor Odinson, still off-world determining the effects of the multiverse as created by the Decimation with Quill, Rocket, Nebula, and their bizarre "kick names, take ass" posse. Carol Danvers? The same. Natasha and Vision, dead to the Recovery cause, just like him. Barton and Lang? Retired with their now-grown children and living comfortably on government funding. Banner had the option to retire, but opted instead for a tenured position at Caltech. Little was known of Strange's fate, though he had always been a discrete bastard. Tony often wondered if he had known all along about his A.I.'s ultimate existence… King T'Challa and the Wakandans had helped the world expand significantly through technology and mechanics, allowing for an international outpouring of further heroes to the Avenger Initiative. Wilson, Barnes, and of course Peter had helped lead this expansion in their own ways, which had come at a particularly curious moment, as more people with hidden genetic abilities like those of Wanda and her deceased brother Pietro began to suddenly surface, causing mass confusion about the supernatural. But, at the end of the day, Morgan was right—despite all the many changes Earth had undergone because of the effects of the Decimation, the planet was behind the times. Tony had tracked significant warfare and activity happening outside their galaxy, some of which the general public had not been made aware of. Not only was there an entire universe of hidden wonders, but now there were _several_ occurring at once.

Tony studied up on all of this, reveling in the time he had to spend by himself. Eventually, though, his internal clock would trigger that it was time for him to awaken the household. He'd get to Morgan first, because she took more coaxing to get out of bed. She'd then usually fully wake up at the very last possible moment, rush to put on clothes, grab her bag and an apple and rush for the waiting car outside. This car would take her to the train station, which would transport her to Manhattan and Midtown High.

He could usually take his time with Pepper. Rare was it that she went in to the office, he had noticed, though he hadn't pried as to her reasons why. He knew from his web sleuthing that she was still the CEO of his company, and that little had changed beyond several key expansions, Peter's being one of them. Things had been running smoothly, and he often observed her working remotely from her own computer.

Today however, Pepper had told him, she wanted to be up in time to catch the 8:30 train into Manhattan, the one an hour after Morgan's. So, after having to shout after Morgan to take her coat with her as she ran late yet again today, he made his way back into his old bedroom. He appeared as a hologram, projecting into the room and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He watched his wife sleep peacefully. He hated to have to disturb her, and he so desperately wished he could touch her, hold her again just once more.

Sadly, his holographic state rendered this an impossibility, so he had no choice but to wake her with his voice. "Pep'," he said. "Pepper, it's time to get up."

She stirred, stretching. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her gaze landed on him. As he smiled at her, she said drowsily, "I don't think I'll ever get used to this."

"What," he said, "Me waking _you_ up for once, instead of the other way around like it used to be?" He of course, only joked. He knew what she meant — she had never expected to see his likeness at her bedside ever again, and each time she had woken up to find him there beside her, she always had to take a moment to convince herself that she wasn't dreaming him up.

She hoisted herself up on her elbows. She squinted. "They did a good job with you," she said, referring to the veritable "dream team" of tech geniuses in the family who had made Tony's hologram a reality.

He glanced down at his appearance. "Yeah, can't complain," he said. "I think we raised good kids, what about you?" He then frowned. "I'm still not sure about Parker's girlfriend. She's…odd."

Pepper groaned, rising to her feet and making her way to her closet. "Parker's _fiancee_," she corrected him.

"Ah ah ah," he protested. "I never gave her my permission to marry him! As…honorary dad—"

"Ha!" said Pepper with a loud guffaw. She stuck her head outside the closet door to look at him. "More like 'honorary stranger who watched YouTube once and shanghaied a kid into Avenger servitude!' You don't get a say in what he does!" She retreated back inside the closet. Her muffled voice shouted back to Tony, "And she's _fine_, you're just in denial!"

"Oh am I?" he said incredulously, approaching the closet. "Denial about what?"

From within, Pepper turned to face him as she put on her blazer. "Denial that time has passed without you and you can't do anything about it." She shrugged slightly. "_We're_ fine," she chirped, motioning between herself and his hologram. "Nothing changed for me. Morgan's just older, but everything else is relatively status quo. But Harley's got kids and Peter's _not_ a kid anymore." She waved her hand through the projection of Tony's face playfully. "You just harp on Peter because his particular life change isn't permanent just yet!"

"Hey stop that," he squirmed, stepping away from her prodding. Pepper did, pausing, her jovial grin fading as she stared deeply into his visage. "Tell me I'm wrong," she said, daring him.

He gave a crooked grin. "You're not," he admitted. "It's…strange to see the full effects of how much can change in a decade."

Pepper shrugged as she made her way into the bathroom. "Well, today should show you how little has changed business-wise. Things are remarkably normal within the company."

Tony leaned into the doorway. "You're sure you want me to come with you?"

Pepper narrowed her eyes at him through the mirror, pausing as she applied mascara. "Yeah?" she said uncertainly. "Why not? Don't you want to?"

Tony flashed a wry grin. "_I'm_ cool with it," he mused. "It's you I'm worried about."

Pepper sighed in exasperation. "Why?" she groaned.

* * *

_"Workin' 9 to 5,_  
_What a way to make a livin',_  
_Barely gettin' by—" _

"Of all things, why this?" Pepper asked under her breath to Tony's A.I., who was blasting Dolly Parton's voice through her miniature earpiece that connected them.

Tony dimmed the music, but kept it playing as he said, "Don't say I didn't warn you!"

She breathed evenly through her nose. "No, the 'you being annoying' bit I have quickly readjusted to. It's your music choice that's baffling me."

"Well you said we're not allowed to talk! I wasn't just going to sit here in your ear in silence! Thought I'd set the mood. Found a 'Workday Playlist.' Seemed fun."

Pepper walked briskly through the winter cold, the click of her heels increasing as she rushed to get inside the warmth of the Stark Industries Manhattan building. "We're not allowed to talk," she said through gritted teeth, "Because I would look like a lunatic seemingly talking to myself out here! Can't you wait just _one_ minute?"

"Fine," he accepted. He changed the song.

_"AND I'LL BE TAKIN' CARE OF BUSINESS! EVERY DAAAAY!" _

"But I'm going to enjoy the hell out of this one minute I have you entirely at my mercy," he shouted above the noise.

Pepper shook her head and laughed under her breath as she scurried inside via the rotating doors. The heat and noise of the interior hit her like a wave, as employees and visitors alike crossed the white marble flooring of the austere Stark Industries lobby. She approached the security gate, reaching for her ID, but the guard's eyes widened upon seeing and instantly recognizing her. Reverently, he allowed her to pass through without showing her card or going through the metal detector.

"Wow!" Tony exclaimed, finally killing the music altogether. "VIP treatment! The perks of being CEO, eh?"

"That's…not it," Pepper murmured. Tony would soon realize what she meant, for as she passed the threshold, all eyes were on her. Though all motion continued at its normal pace, all passersby stared at her as she made her way across the lobby and toward the elevators. A few polite nods of the head were offered to her, along with a few utterances of "Hello, Ms. Potts," or "Welcome back, ma'am," but mostly came the murmurs that increased with every sighting.

Pepper held her head high and set her jaw, staring straight ahead and increasing her pace. Sensing her increased blood pressure, Tony suddenly realized why Pepper worked from home so often—it hadn't been out of convenience, but because every time she came here, she wasn't just Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries. She was Rescue, the integral pinch hitter of the Recovery Battle. Even more so, however, to them she was but the widow of the namesake of their company. Nothing more.

One voice rose above the whispers. "Mrs. Stark?"

This caused Pepper to stop in her tracks and face the direction of the call. Approaching her was a friendly looking man wearing an apron over a black button-down and pants. "This guy a fan of yours?" said Tony to Pepper.

She ignored him. "Potts," she corrected the newcomer with a warm smile. "Just…Pepper, really."

The man looked horrified. "Oh, I'm so sorry about that," he quickly apologized. "I think I was just flustered—"

"No, please, it's fine—" Pepper assured him.

"I just…I thought I saw you coming in and I was so surprised to see you! It's been awhile!" he said cheerily.

Pepper flashed a polite smile. "Yes, it has."

Tony saw the guy take a look around the lobby at the scads of onlookers watching them. He drew closer to her. "Care to step into my office?" he asked softly. "I'm here to rescue you."

"_Please_," Pepper said gratefully, following him. Together, they made their way into an annex in the lobby which held a small cafe. As she entered, the man made sure that the seating area was clear before he drew the retractable belt across the entry way, effectively closing the cafe down temporarily.

"Oh no," Pepper protested. "Really, you don't have to do all this—"

"It's fine!" he insisted with a smile. "It's not every day we getcha here, so we gotta roll out the VIP experience!" He called to his coworker behind the counter. "TJ! You remember our CEO, don't you?"

TJ, a stern-looking, bald man wearing an identical apron looked up through his thick glasses. He noticed Pepper, and even though he otherwise didn't display the slightest hint of recognition, gave her a respectful nod.

The original coffee guy turned back to Pepper, squinting. "It's a…white chocolate mocha, isn't it? With coconut milk?"

Pepper looked astonished that he had remembered her typical order after so long. "Y-yes!" she stammered.

The guy looked back to TJ. "You heard the lady! Whip it up!" He turned back to Pepper again as he made his way behind the counter. "And if I'm remembering correctly, Morgan was a fan of the blueberry scones…" His voice trailed as he procured a small brown bag and used tongs to place two scones within. He extended the bag to Pepper. "Tell her I said hello! How's she doing nowadays? She must be getting so big!"

"She…she just started high school," Pepper replied, still somewhat stunned at his thoughtfulness and memory retention.

"High school!" he exclaimed in amazement. "Wow! Yeah it's been a few…_years_ really since I saw her. She was sure a fan of space, that one. She would just sit in here while you were up there busy and talk my ear off about everything she knew." He grinned. "I didn't understand hardly any of it, but it was just great to see her so excited!"

This guy was quickly losing points with Tony, and that was saying something, as whatever points he had had started off exceedingly low. _Okay, kiss-ass_, he thought, _Let's speed it along. _

"So she's doing okay?" he asked. "She probably wouldn't remember me."

"I'm sure that's not true," Pepper said, taking the bag of scones from him and holding them up. "One look at these and she'll know immediately where they came from!" Her smile faded into a pensive expression, as she continued, "And she's…she's actually doing really well now. She's already done more than I ever thought was capable for a kid her age."

Coffee Guy grinned again. "Well, if you don't mind my saying so, ma'am, she comes from some pretty great parents who are also capable of awesome things. It's only natural." _Kiss-ass_, Tony's thoughts fumed again. The guy looked back to his pastry case. "What about something for you?" he asked. "Coffee cake? Bagel?" He snapped his fingers and closed his eyes, trying to remember. "You…er…you take it with…schmear or no schmear? I can't remember."

"Schmear," Pepper confirmed. "But really, it's fine!"

"No it's not!" he protested, instantly leaping into bagel action. "I _never_ forget a regular customer's order. It's a travesty, really."

"No, I meant the bagel!" she insisted.

He turned back to her with a wry expression. "Too late, it's already in the oven."

"If you run now, you can make the next elevator," Tony suggested in her ear. "He won't catch you—save yourself!"

"Seriously?!" Pepper hissed at him.

"What did you say?" Coffee Guy asked, unaware that she was speaking to her A.I.

"Uh," Pepper stammered, "Umm I… I _seriously_ can't believe you remember all this!"

His eyes were kind as he replied, "Well…you're a hard one to forget." Tony felt himself prickle at this.

Pepper turned back toward the busy lobby outside the cafe. "Yeah," she said wistfully, "I wish the opposite were true."

"They mean well," he replied. "They just don't know how to react when they see you." He smiled again. "You should come by more often! It might take the edge off. Make it more normal when you're here."

She shook her head sadly. "I tried that in the beginning. I finally had enough of all the pitying looks and condolence messages day after day after day."

Coffee Guy shook his head. "But those were the early days, though. It's been long enough, I think people might let it go if they see you acting so normal." He turned back to his friend, who was still hard at work on Pepper's mocha. "Plus we'd like to see more of you around, wouldn't we, TJ?"

Tony snorted. "Yeah, I bet he would," he said aloud to Pepper. She cleared her throat intentionally, warning him to shut up. Silently, as per usual, TJ came around the counter and handed Pepper her coffee while Coffee Guy handed her her bagel. She thanked her baristas. "Uh…how much do I owe you for this and the scones?"

Coffee Guy waved her off. "Pssh. On the house."

"No," she protested. "Really, it's fine!"

"On the house!" he insisted. "It's the least we can do." After a moment, he continued, "So what brings you in today anyways?"

"Oh, not much," Pepper said. "Just installing some new tech into my office."

* * *

"So what's the deal with Gunther down there?" Tony said to Pepper.

"What?" she asked, her voice muffled from beneath her desk as she sat by a surge protector. "Who's—what are you talking about?"

"So 'Friends' is totally irrelevant now?" he scoffed. "Eh. Probably for the best. Creepy Coffee Guy down there," he replied. "He sure seemed to like you."

"Why is it," she asked, fiddling with a black cord, "That when anyone is polite, you instantly think they're being 'creepy?'"

"People who are nice for no reason, in my experience, want something from you," he said callously. "Wrong outlet," he quickly said.

Examining the plugs closer, she insisted, "Not everybody has an agenda."

"I beg to differ," he chirped. "That's the wrong outlet," he repeated.

"I really think that if you—"

"Wrong—"

"Ow, dammit!" Pepper exclaimed as she recoiled after having been minorly electrocuted.

Tony exhaled deeply. "I told you that was the wrong outlet. The voltage is too high. Try the one on the left."

Begrudgingly, Pepper obeyed and in so doing, saved herself from another electrocution. She crawled out from beneath her desk backwards, waiting for something else to go wrong. When nothing happened, she took a deep breath. "Okay, we've gotten that far. Now what?"

A sudden knock on the glass of her door startled them both. Uninvited, a man suddenly stuck his head into the doorway. He was dressed in a navy blue suit with a striped tie to match. His eyes were dark and piercing, his black hair peppered with silver. "Well look what the cat dragged in!" he said with a confident smirk. "Mind if I come in?"

"Uh, yeah!" Pepper exclaimed, nervously pushing back the A.I. projector unit she had been tinkering with to the far side of her desk. "Curtis, how are you doing?" she warmly said.

"I'm great," he said, fully entering the room. _Hmm…Curtis, huh?_ Tony ran facial recognition on this guy: Curtis Morrens, age 39. A graduate from Stanford's School of Business. Had quickly ascended through the ranks from an assistantship with Stark Industries beginning at age 25 to his current position, Director of Communications. "Long time no see," he was saying. "What has the great Pepper Potts been up to?"

Pepper met him in the center of the room. "Oh, the same," she said simply. She was curt, eager for him to leave so she could return to installing Tony's holoware. "It's so good to see—"

"—You probably hadn't heard, since you've been away for so long," Curtis said, cutting her off, "But I recently received a promotion."

Pepper smiled politely. "I _had_ heard. I was copied on those emails. Allow me to be among your many fans congratulating you, I'm sure!"

He brushed her compliment aside, feigning modesty. "Oh no, none of that! I will say," he said, looking at her from the corner of his eyes, "It didn't feel like a proper celebration without you here."

"I know, and believe me, I'm sorry about that. It's just with living so far away, it's hard to come in all the—"

He cut her off again. "—you should really come back to Manhattan, Pepper. The City misses you." He drew closer to her, lowering his voice. "We all do."

_I'm in hell,_ Tony thought. _I get to watch guys line up to hit on my wife. This is literal hell. _

Pepper chuckled uncomfortably and eased back away from him. Though he didn't follow her, his gaze was unwavering. "What's say you to drinks one of these nights?" he asked. "That is, if we can persuade you to come back soon."

Pepper was getting increasingly irked by his continued comments about her absence. Regardless, she still politely answered, "Oh, well, it's hard. Like I said, I don't exactly live close. And with Morgan…it's just hard for me to get away."

Tony watched Curtis shift at the mention of their daughter. "Well she's gotta be pretty grown up by now, doesn't she?"

Pepper squinted. "She's…fourteen?"

"Not exactly a kid though, is she?" he challenged. "C'mon, live a little. I know a great place. Just opened up. "

Pepper flashed an ingenuine smile. "Perhaps some other time."

Unfazed, Curtis winked at her. "Gonna hold you to that, Pepper!" He then turned to take his leave, saying back to her over his shoulder, "Great to have you back, ma'am!"

Pepper followed behind him, saying, "Thanks for stopping by, Curtis," before shutting the door firmly behind him and locking it. She took a deep breath, leaning her back against the door and listening until she was certain he had gone. Finally, she said, "I think the coast is clear."

"He seems nice," Tony mused.

Hurrying back to Tony's monitor, she scoffed, "God, Curtis? No." She lined up the censor, then pressed the long, flat button on the top of the device. Tony's hologram projected from it, and onto where she stood. Startled, she backed up, but they hesitated when they were only an inch apart from each other. After a tense, electric moment, Tony said with an eyebrow raised, "So I take it you're _not_ getting drinks with him then?"

Pepper shook her head. "Not a chance." Turning from him, she moved to her desk and took a seat.

"He does have a point," he admitted. "You really should get out more."

Incredulously, she replied, "What, you actually _like_ him?"

"Not even the slightest bit," chirped Tony. "But you gotta admit he's uncannily similar to someone…"

"Who?" she asked. Tony cocked his head to the side and extended his arms matter-of-factly. She finally realized what he was saying. "You?! Not at all!"

"Why not?" he asked, his hologram sitting in a chair opposite her. "He's extremely good-looking, completely self-obsessed, and finds you undeniably sexy. I too possess all three traits."

"Curtis finds _anything_ undeniably sexy," Pepper retorted. "You want to know how he got that promotion he's so shamelessly gloating about?" When he shrugged, she leaned towards him, lowering her voice. "Let's just say…he does only a fraction of his work during daylight hours. I'm the final conquest."

Tony raised his eyebrows. "Man's got initiative, I'll give him that much." He leaned back in the chair. "Again, though—remind you of anyone? You were on the morning-after, 'show 'em the door' shift back in the day, if you'll recall." He paused here, considering his once high-octane lifestyle. "Man, I was awful to you. Why _did_ you stay?"

"Because," she said gently, "I saw there was more to you than just…well, Curtis." When Tony challenged her again with a skeptical look, she admitted, "Okay fine, plus you paid really well."

Tony laughed, but then said earnestly, "Seriously, though. A guy like him…you're not even going to humor him with drinks?"

"Seriously," she replied.

"Why not?"

She gave a slight shrug and answered solemnly, "Why would I when I have you?" Tony was moved by her devotion, yet something didn't feel right about her strong assertion. He hadn't the time to ponder it further, however, for Pepper had taken a deep breath, and moved on to another thought with, "And _since_ I have you, what's say we get to work?"

He looked taken aback. "Oh…oh! Oh this is awkward. You thought I was here to work?" Pepper laughed as he continued to joke, "No, no no— my apologies, Ms. Potts. I thought I was just your in-office entertainment. 'Work' is far outside my pay grade."

* * *

3:45 PM. Pepper had taken her heels off and had her feet up on her desk as she leaned back in her swivel chair. "Tony…" she said.

"No more please," he groaned, only half his hologram legs visible as he laid flat under her desk.

"We haven't even worked a full day!" she said, laughing. "C'mon, up! Let's go!"

He sat up, his eyes now visible, peeking over the desk. "This is normal for you?" he asked. "It's exhausting."

"It's productive!" she protested.

"It's _exhausting_," he maintained.

For the past four hours, Pepper had been working diligently, using Tony as a reference for questions, finding contact information, and running figures, but also as a sounding board for her messages and running through ideas with him. To a certain extent, Pepper was right—not much had seemingly changed. Their level of collaboration was akin to the early years of their relationship, when they together had planned the structure and ultimate redesign of Avengers Tower. The only difference now was that whenever anyone unexpectedly popped by (and they popped by quite often) he wasn't allowed to be there. Tony would trigger the automatic unlock of the office door and his hologram would disappear, leaving Pepper alone with her visitor, usually an employee who commented the same litany of phrases: "You're back!" "It's been awhile!" "You're looking great!"

Together, they had worked through an incredible amount of tasks quite efficiently. "What else could there possibly be?" Tony asked, fully standing up.

Pepper leaned forward again, returning her attention to her computer monitor as she began to get back to work. "It never ends, dear," she mused. "Welcome to my world."

"God, and you were doing this all on your own?" he asked in amazement. "The planning and the talking and the reading…and the _talking_…"

"Yep," she grinned mischievously, her eyes still on her screen. "And to think I did it all without asking the boss for a raise."

"Hey now," he protested, "I married you and gave you a kid! That's raise enough, right?"

Silence.

Alarmed, Tony turned to her. "…right?"

But Pepper's face was pale and distraught as she brought it closer to the screen.

"Hon'?" he asked. "What is it?"

Pepper only murmured, "How could this be?"

Immediately, Tony ran diagnostics on her computer, seeing what she was seeing— News that Stark Industries stock had plummeted as of the opening bell this morning. "What the hell?" he asked.

"You're seeing this?" she said.

"I wish I wasn't," he replied. "How did this happen?"

She shook her head in disbelief. "I don't possibly know. I'm looking at the other figures…the market as a whole isn't down. So what caused this?"

Tony instantaneously ran a browser search within his intelligence for answers. When he found the cause, he asked her solemnly, "When were you going to tell me you pulled funding in Oakland?"

Stunned, Pepper furrowed her brow and faced him. "What?"

"The Wakandan Youth Outreach Center in Oakland," he repeated. "I ran a search. Everyone's saying it's because you cut ties."

"_I_ didn't do anything," she insisted. "I never heard about us cutting funds! I initiated that partnership, Tony! Why would I—"

"Okay, okay," he said, drawing near her and kneeling at her side. "It's fine. We'll figure this out." When she nodded her understanding, he asked, "Was there any indication of this? Any email or call you might be forgetting?"

"I'd never forget something like that. Check my emails yourself if you don't believe me!"

"I believe you," he reassured her. "So…what do we do?"

"There has to be some mistake…" She shook her head, then looked intently at him. "Can you call them? Maybe I can figure this out."

"Done," he replied, allowing his hologram to vanish as he searched for the proper contact. "Better go straight to the source," his voice rang out as he dialed.

Pepper straightened herself up as she faced the holoscreen. After a moment, a women answered the call, her thick, gold necklace and a black, long sleeved shirt indicating that she was a Dora Milaje. "Wakandan Youth Outreach Center," she said, looking into her camera.

"Yes," Pepper replied evenly. "This is Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries. I know this is an impossible request, but it is of the utmost importance that I speak to Her Royal Highness."

The Dora swiftly shot her down with, "And 'impossible' it most certainly is. The princess is indisposed."

Pepper sighed. "I thought she might be. Is there anyone I can possibly talk to? There was a recent transaction made between our organizations, and it was done without my knowledge. I thought I'd go straight to the source and try to gain some understanding of why our arrangements dissolved."

The Dora immediately opened her mouth to protest, then stopped, placing a finger up to her ear. "Yes, your highness," she said. "Transferring you now."

Immediately, Princess Shuri's face filled the screen. Her arms were crossed and her lips were pursed. "Well, well, well," she said sardonically, "Go figure that you'd come crawling back to us the moment your stock falls."

"Shuri," Pepper pleaded, "I don't know how this happened."

"Don't know how this happened?!" she scoffed. "I'll tell you! You tossed me over in favor of your precious Spider-Boy!" Mumbling under her breath, she said, "…he doesn't even know how to drive…"

"Shuri, I swear, I had no part in this!" insisted Pepper. "Who talked to you?"

"I received notice by a generic email from the Stark Board of Associates."

Pepper's eyes shifted to Tony's green light. "Board of Associates?" she asked. Looking back to Shuri, she said, "I promise you, I don't even know what that is."

"Seriously?" Shuri asked. "Well that at least makes some sort of sense! After all we've been through together, fighting alongside one another, you ghosting me seemed unreasonable."

"No, we're devoted to international outreach," Pepper assured her.

Shuri nodded. "Because we don't need your aid. You know that, right? Our association is for the sake of global technological achievements."

"No, we need _yours_," Pepper said. "Just look at the stock market response today! Shuri, without the Wakandan Youth Outreach program, we'd just be noise. We depend on programs like yours. Those that are making a real difference."

Just then, Tony clocked activity occurring in the hallway. He hoped that their conversation would be wrapping up soon, for there seemed to be internal conflict within Stark Industries, and Pepper being discovered talking to Shuri had the potential to only create further conflict.

"That's good of you to say," Shuri said.

"I'm going to get to the bottom of this," Pepper vowed. "And when I do, I promise that we'll restore our companies' relationship, alright?"

The commotion outside the door was louder. Tony grew increasingly on edge.

"Is there anything I can do?" Shuri asked.

Finally, the voices were getting uncomfortably close. "Pepper," Tony said. "We gotta wrap this up."

Shuri froze, recognizing the voice immediately. "What was that?"

Tony cringed and Pepper started stammering. "Um…just my assistant," she lied.

Shuri's face lit up as she pointed to Pepper. "YOU MADE STARK INTO AN A.I.?!"

Pepper winced upon hearing the individuals in the hallway, the reason why Tony had been so insistent upon getting her off the holocall. "Uh, not exactly, Shuri. I'll call you with updates, okay?"

"GIRL, YOU HAD BETTER CALL ME BAC—"

Tony cut off the call. Quickly and without any sort of explanation, Pepper raced for the door. Tony was appalled. "Pepper, no! What are you do—"

He stopped speaking once she opened the door. Her eyes scanned the passersby, all men around her age holding binders, until she saw someone she recognized. "Curtis!" she called. For the second time that day, Curtis stood in her doorway.

"Pepper, what's the matter?" he asked, cupping his hand under her elbow. "You look upset!"

She shied away from his touch. "What's all this? What's happening?"

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, then answered, "Well…um…there's a board meeting scheduled, and uh…"

"The Board of Directors?" she asked, shaking her head in confusion. "Why wasn't I informed?"

"No, ma'am, uh…" he stammered, his once-confident swagger now replaced by complete mortification. "I didn't uh…well, this is the Board of Associates."

Pepper narrowed her eyes. "What does that even mean?" She then held up her hand, disgusted. "You know what, no! Who is in charge of this so-called 'board?' I want to see them here in my office _right now_!"

Tony was impressed by her assertiveness, especially when Curtis mumbled something about how the meeting was just about to start, and Pepper demanded, "NOW," and he scurried out of sight.

She kept the door open as she paced back and forth across her office, chewing her knuckle as she waited for whoever had been acting in authority behind her back. When that individual finally did surface, Tony felt himself go numb in shock, recognizing the face as none other than a former mentee of his father's, Henry Fairbanks.

"Pepper," the old man crooned in a saccharine tone, "It's been awhile."

"Save it, Henry," replied an irate Pepper, her hands on her hips. "What's all this about a Board of Associates I was never informed about? And tell me what's happening with Oakland."

Henry shrugged nonchalantly. "A little instability is expected with any radical company change. It'll even out eventually."

"Yeah?" she retorted. "I'd believe that if our stock didn't skyrocket the moment we teamed with Parker Industries. The Wakandan Youth Outreach Center is one of the most important partnerships we've made in the recent past. Was it you who did this?"

"Pepper—"

"Was it you?!" she insisted.

Henry exhaled deeply, then replied, "It was a joint decision voted upon by the Board of Associates. The decision to divest our interests with Oakland was unanimously approved."

Pepper shook her head. "I didn't vote. I would have refused!"

It took everything in Tony's power to hold his tongue as he heard his former colleague say to his wife, "You're not on the board, ma'am."

She was now fuming. "Am I not the CEO?"

"All due respect, ma'am," he replied, "But your prolonged absence from the company left us no choice but to organize. Believe me, what you've been through has been unfathomable for any woman to endure," he said condescendingly, "But your lack of involvement has put the company in peril."

"Henry, I worked!" Pepper shouted. "I've never taken a day off! The day of my husband's _funeral_ I was working for the company, finding ways to reintroduce the recovered employees back to their former roles! Not a day has gone by that I didn't do my damnedest for my company!" She shook her head. "This is mutinous!" she said. "After all we've been through together, and you're just going push me out of my own company?"

"No one's trying to push you out," Henry said, laying a hand on her shoulder. "You retain the same benefits and pay as you did before."

When he stopped there, Pepper narrowed her eyes. "And?" she asked. "That's it?"

"Think of your position as a…ceremonial role," he replied. "You've been through so much, and no one expects you to fully bounce back. Think about Morgan, wouldn't you rather be home with her?"

Pepper's face was red with rage as she pulled Henry's hand off her. "Tony placed the company in my hands long before he died!" she declared. "I'll be damned if anyone takes that away from me!"

Henry raised his eyebrows, "It's already been done, Pepper. The vote is the vote."

Her chest heaved heavily as she looked around the room in disbelief. "So that's it, then? I'm out?"

"You retain the same benefits—"

"STOP SAYING THAT!" she shouted. "So I'm the CEO…in name only?"

After a moment, Henry chillingly replied, "To put it succinctly, yes."

Pepper closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose. "Answer me this," she said, voice weak and low, "Why Wakanda? Why would you let me merge with Parker Industries, and throw over Wakanda?"

"It's part of a company-wide rebranding initiative," he replied evenly. "Our plan is to divest all syndicates before the end of the fiscal year. Parker is next to go. We're returning back to the original intent of Howard Stark. We're a company of and by our own make and model." He cocked his head to the side. "That mantra seems to have been forgotten in the recent past."

Pepper sneered at him. "Get out of my office." When he paused, she said more pointedly, "You're late for your meeting, aren't you? Where you're going to undo all that my husband and I worked to create? So go!"

He snorted, clearly pleased with himself, saying, "Always a pleasure, Pepper," before shutting the door behind him.

Tony's hologram reappeared. "Pepper…" he began.

"What am I going to do?" she said, balling up her fists in her hair. "They pushed me out! I'm done!"

"Damn Fairbanks!" Tony exclaimed. "I knew he was a Stane-supporter, but never did I anticipate him pulling this shit." He looked at Pepper. "What do you want me to do?"

"What _can_ you do?" she asked hopelessly. "What can anyone do? You heard him! It's already done!"

"Pepper, I'm here to assist you. Say the word, and I'll do it."

She started breathing heavily again as her eyes, unfocused drifted around the room. Tony wished so badly there was more he could do to comfort her. Finally, she put her hands up and exclaimed, "I need air. I need to get out of here."

"Pepper…"

"Just—I'm sorry," she said, closing the door behind her as she left.

Now alone in her office, Tony considered his options, all of which seemed rather bleak and fruitless. Here he was faced with a question he never thought he'd have to answer: What was Stark Industries without Pepper Potts?


	12. DS - Take Your Husband to Work Day P2

It was a full half hour before Pepper returned, her hair and shoes damp from taking a walk without her coat in the falling snow outside.

Tony had stayed in the room, pacing within as he waited for her return. When she arrived, he asked simply, "You okay?"

"No," she glumly responded. "I'm better, but I'm far from okay."

She came around and leaned against the corner of her desk, her eyes downcast and her arms crossed. Impatiently, Tony asked, "So what are we going to do?"

She shrugged. "What can be done? Beyond me beating on the door, which believe me— I definitely did on my way past, making both a scene and a complete fool of myself when no one answered." Her eyes went distant as she said, "I'm shut out…in literally every way."

Tony was stunned at her defeatist behavior. "Pep', we gotta fight this. If it takes me hacking and blackmailing these bastards, I'll do it! Say the word!"

"No, I'm not stooping to their level!" she said.

"Then what?"

She paused, considering this. All she could vocalize aloud was a bleak utterance of, "This was inevitable. They had it planned for years."

Tony sighed. "Why, _why_ weren't you here?" he implored her. "If you had been at the office more often—"

"It still would have happened," she cut him off, sending him a fiery glare.

"You don't know that!" he insisted.

"Tony you saw how they treat me!" she shouted, her eyes welling with tears. "After losing you once, I was made to relive that day in and day out, day by day, week by week, month by month. I was _surrounded_ by your loss! And I kept thinking it would get better but it never did!" She threw her arms out to the side. "Who would willingly submit to that sort of life? So I took my work to me. I only came in when I absolutely had to. And that Board of Associates took advantage of that weakness!" She deflated as she murmured, "I was weak."

Tony drew close to her, bending to look into her downturned eyes. "Hey, abandoning all you worked to create is weakness. Your devotion to my company in spite of it all was the bravest thing you could have done."

She shook her head. "Then am I getting punished for it?"

There was no good answer to this hopeless question, but Tony would have done anything in that moment to comfort her. "Pepper, I—" Tony's words were abruptly cut short as he sensed someone approaching the door. He let his hologram fade as soon as he saw the same coffee guy from this morning give a slight knock on the door. "Oh what fresh hell is this?" Tony exclaimed. "This guy again?"

"Shh!" Pepper hushed him. Then, to the door, she called, "Come in!"

Tony triggered the automatic lock, rendering it so that the coffee guy jammed his shoulder into the locked door.

"Tony!" Pepper hissed. "Unlock that!"

"We're not dealing with this right now!"

"YES WE ARE! UNLOCK IT!"

Begrudgingly, Tony obeyed, sending the coffee guy nearly tumbling headfirst into the office when he unlocked the door. He laughed at himself. "Whoops! Sorry bout that!"

Pepper stood, shaking her head. "No, not at all! That door sometimes locks itself." She gave a pointed look to Tony's monitor as she said, "It's _extremely stubborn_."

"Not a problem at all, Mrs. Stark," he said, though immediately his face fell in horror. He quickly corrected, "Er…uh, Mrs. Potts. Ms. Potts—"

"Pepper," she corrected with a smile. "Please, just Pepper."

He took a deep breath. "_Pepper_," he said with a nervous smile. After a moment, he said gently, "I'm sorry to pry, but I saw you walk out of the lobby and into the cold, and you looked upset." He extended an arm, which carried a coffee cup. He smiled warmly. "You might have already had your caffeine for the day, but you might need it to warm yourself up. Or you can always save it for later. Just a minute in the microwave will do the trick."

If Tony had eyes, he would have rolled them. He had instantly had a bad feeling about this clown, and now that he was back trying to win his wife over with a latte, he hated him even more.

Pepper accepted the drink with deep gratitude. "No, believe me," she said, "I need this now. Thank you."

The guy's face flashed an empathetic expression. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Pepper lied with a brave grin. She brought a hand to her face, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She froze like this, then took a breath, "Actually no," she said, "I just…" She took a deep exhale. Not wanting to get into the minutia of what had surpassed, she simply ended on, "You just…you think the universe could give you just one break every once and awhile."

The coffee guy shook his head. "I know," he said understandingly. "Well…I mean I _don't_ know. People can only imagine all you've been through. Just know that from the outside looking in, you're a rockstar." He snorted. "Well, actually that's not right either. If you were a rockstar you'd probably be strung out and partying all the time."

Pepper laughed. "What I wouldn't give."

"I mean it though," he said genuinely, "When I tell people that I work for Stark Industries, you're the first person they ask me about. They idolize you."

"That's…kind," Pepper deflected, looking down.

She was clearly uncomfortable with the praise and Coffee Guy clocked it. "You don't believe me," he said.

She sighed. "I'd _like_ to believe you, I really would," she said, "But when you're sitting behind a desk being told from all angles that no one believes in you? Your brain tends to believe _those_ voices. I'm not hearing the 'idolatry' from up here." She shook herself from that thought upon hearing herself speak it aloud. "That's so self-aggrandizing, oh my god, that's not what I meant—"

"No, no, I get it," he reassured her. "You're not wrong for feeling that way." He smiled again supportively. "I don't know how much help I can be, beyond the occasional white chocolate mocha every now and again, but know that at the very least, you've got two people on your team."

Pepper raised her eyebrows in amusement. "Yeah? You and who else? TJ?"

He considered this. "Alright three people," he joked. "Me, TJ…and Morgan." Tony watched as Pepper's expression melted. She looked genuinely touched by this. Coffee Guy shrugged, "It might not be an army, but it's a start. Sometimes that's all you need."

Tony examined Coffee Guy closer. Quickly, he ran his facial recognition software. "David Boggs." Tony grimaced. _There's always a Dave_, he thought, recalling his previous quip to Morgan. He searched for anything he could find on this guy, filing through webpage after webpage, searching articles, social media posts, running a background check instantaneously, _anything_ that he could use to get this guy out of Pepper's office. But he couldn't find any dirt. David was, by all accounts, a good guy.

David had smiled again, and had started to back out of Pepper's office. "Well, if you need anything else coffee-wise, you know where to find me," he said. Before he left, however, he paused at the door. He inhaled, turned around as if to say one final thought, then let it go, saying simply, "No, never mind."

Pepper stopped him before he closed the door. "No, what?"

"It's not my place," he insisted.

"No, please!" Pepper countered.

_Oh here we go!_ thought Tony with glee. _He's gonna give her professional advice and she's going to tear him apart! Rest in peace, Coffee Boy! _

But Tony was dumbfounded upon hearing his own name come from "Coffee Boy's" mouth: "This doesn't mean anything coming from me, I know, and I know I never even met him, but I'd like to believe that Mr. Stark is somewhere out there singing your praises." He gave a small nod. "He'd be thrilled with all you've done."

Pepper was visibly shaken by this, and could only manage a slight, "Thank you." Without another word, David took his leave.

Collapsing in her chair with a deep sigh, Pepper twisted the coffee cup in her hands as Tony allowed his hologram to reappear. She raised an eyebrow at his pensive expression. "What," she said in monotone.

"What's ol' Dave's deal?" he asked.

Pepper rolled her eyes. "God, Tony! Why does everything need to be a 'deal' with you?" She laid her palms flat on the table and looked squarely at him. "Fine. If you must know, David died during the Decimation. When he was recovered, he found out that his wife, who had survived, had remarried during those five years. So, he decided to take a fresh start on life, leave his dead-end job sitting behind a cubicle, and work a simple job as a barista. I'd see him every day in the beginning when I was coming in regularly. He was the only one who didn't treat me differently. We became _friends_. He's since taken over the shop. That's all!" She motioned with her hand towards the door where David had just left. "Why can't people just be nice?"

"That wasn't 'nice,'" Tony protested. "That was…infatuation. Admiration. Dare I say 'a crush?'"

"_Don't_ dare," she snapped. "David's just a friend!" She sat back diplomatically. "You know, if this is what it's going to be day in and day out with you, and I have to deal with your jealous, bruised male-ego crap, then I'm going to just unplug you. I don't need this here. Not now!"

"It's not jealousy, Pepper, it's the truth! And you haven't been dealing with this at _all_," he countered. "Over ten years since my death, and you haven't dated _anyone_ else?"

She twisted her face in bewilderment. "Oh, so now, in light of you suggesting that my losing control of the company was entirely my fault, you're putting this on me too? That I couldn't find someone else?"

"No, that you wouldn't _let_ yourself find someone else."

"Who's side are you on?" she exclaimed. "One minute you're mad at some innocent flirting and the next you're on my case for staying single!?"

Tony raised an eyebrow. "So it WAS flirting!"

Pepper set her jaw. "Tony, I swear to God…"

His hologram leaned forward towards her earnestly. "Pep', since I've been back all you've told me about is how nothing's changed." Shaking his head, he said, "I'm not sure that's something worth celebrating, and clearly," he said, referring to the building around them, "It isn't true. I…I just to make sure you aren't closing yourself off to another future." He shrugged. "I'm a computer, Pep'. Your Tony is gone. You're not married to me."

Pepper narrowed her eyes. "You're his consciousness, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Then you're supposed to love me," she continued.

"I do," he maintained. "And because I do, I want to make sure that you're with someone who can be there for you in all the ways I can't anymore. It's in my name— I'm 'artificial.' I want you to have someone real who can make you happy."

Pepper shook her head. "You think my happiness comes from a man?" she asked incredulously. She gave a slight laugh in disbelief. "You know what, _that_. That's the only thing that truly makes you artificial— is that you'd think for a moment my needs are so superficial. I'm at my happiest when I can do my job well. When I know I'm making a difference and doing the most that I can. I'm at my happiest when I'm being a good mother to our daughter." She shook her head. "That's _it_. Everything else comes second to me." Looking up, she said to Tony's hologram, "And you were special. Replacing you wasn't anything that ever crossed my mind. It hasn't been a choice. I didn't swear off relationships after you died or anything like that. No. Despite all your downright _infuriating_ antics…" Her voice trailed as she shook her head, "I just knew that you were it for me. And I'm okay with that."

Tony was touched at this, gazing at her. His voice soft, he said, "I just want you to know that it's okay if someone else is 'it' for you one day." He motioned with his head towards the door. "And if there was another 'it,' I'd like to think he'd be like Coffee Guy."

Pepper chuckled. "David? Why David?"

"He's good," Tony replied earnestly. "He listens to you without offering his own two-cents. He notices how you're feeling. He respects you. He cares about Morgan. He'll bring you enough baked goods until you become one. He's goofy as hell, but he's _nice_." He gave a crooked smile. "You should be with someone like that. But only if you want to."

Pepper took this in, nodding with a heavy head. It was true—for as much as she had insisted that things were the same, they had actually very much changed without her ever fully accepting that truth. She took a deep breath. "Before that thought even _enters_ my mind," she said evenly, "I have to do what's best for myself. And that means getting the company back." She gazed into the hologram's eyes. "Will you help me?"

His eyes glimmered with excitement. "Always."

* * *

"Okay, ready?" Tony asked from inside his projector monitor.

Pepper nodded, her eyes straight ahead and gaze sharp like a hawk. "Ready."

"And we are live in three, two, one…" The red dot on his mechanism switched to green, projecting in front of her an elevated view of the board room, where thirteen men sat around a table while Henry stood, his back to her. The men who faced the screen noticed that their projector feed had been hacked and their jaws fell agape upon seeing that the bland powerpoint presentation they had been observing now projected the authoritative image of Pepper, sitting calmly at her desk with her hands folded in front of her.

"Hi boys," she said in a saccharine tone. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything!"

Henry tipped his head forward, taking a deep sigh upon hearing her voice and quickly putting together what had happened. Finally, he turned around. "Pepper!" he said politely, though his eyes shot daggers at her. "I thought I had informed you that this is a closed meeting."

"Oh you were perfectly clear on that, Henry," Pepper said evenly, "But according to Stark Industry's Articles of Association, which I believe I can share with you right now…" Tony took his cue, splitting the projection of Pepper with a scanned image of the aforementioned document, wherein he highlighted the text as she spoke, "'Whereas in the event of all formalized meetings regarding the joint business ventures of all company associations herewith, The Chief Executive Officer…' that would be _me_," she emphasized, "'_Must_ be present at said meeting. In the event of a formalized absence, it is the responsibility of the Chief Executive Officer,'" she paused again, "Still me… '…to appoint a fellow board member to act in their stead.'" Tony took down the split screen as Pepper looked back to the room before her. "Seeing as I very much am still the Chief Executive Officer, and I am very much in the building, and very much did not appoint a board member to act in my stead, I should be here, should I not?"

Henry set his jaw. "Ma'am, that applies only to board associations. This association was constructed internally during your prolonged periods of bereavement, therefore existing outside of the jurisdiction of the CEO," he challenged.

"Pepper's eyes flicked to the green dot where Tony's consciousness was contained. They shared the same thought, and Tony immediately brought up the split screen again. "'Whereas!'" she exclaimed, reading from the Articles again, "'The Chief Executive Officer retains sole authority over all associations relating to the company at large. Any formal association that convenes without the express consent and approval of the Chief Executive Officer is in direct violation of the Chief Executive Officer's authority.'" Pepper returned her steadfast gaze to Henry. "So we can either end this now, or you may proceed with me overseeing the meeting, Mr. Fairbanks. Your call."

Every ounce of Tony's being surged with pride at Pepper's unshakeable demeanor. It took everything in his power not to laugh out loud upon watching Henry uncomfortably look back to his board. "Erhm…" he stammered. "Well, as I was saying… the trade deal with—"

"Pardon me," Pepper swiftly interrupted, quickly squashing Henry's authority once more. "Hate to interrupt what I'm sure is a deeply important topic, Mr. Fairbanks, but perhaps one of you gentlemen can fill me in on why we've let Oakland fall by the wayside."

No one dared speak up.

"Really?" Pepper asked them. "Not a soul has anything to say about this? Because surely you must have seen the dip in our stocks."

Again, Henry defended himself against her. Giving a condescending laugh he said, "Pepper—"

"Ms. Potts," she corrected him.

He glared at her. "_Ms. Potts_… I thought we were clear on why we put a hold on the Wakandan Youth Outreach Center. If it wasn't for your insistence on the Parker Industries merger—"

"If it wasn't for my insistence on the Parker Industries merger, we would belly up within the next quarter," she said. "Mr. Parker was Tony's protege, you know this. He's got Tony's acumen and his own youth on his side. It is only _because_ of their pre-existing bond that Parker was willing to work with us instead of completely buying us out, which he is more than capable of doing and you know it!"

Tony actually didn't know this about Peter's company._ Damn, kid,_ he thought. _Way to go! _

This time, a thin man with glasses spoke up from the rear of the room. "All due respect, Ms. Potts," he said, "But perhaps it has been our insistence on sharing our resources with other start-up efforts that put us in financial peril in the first place."

Henry smugly motioned towards the man, as though proving his point. "We're only acting in accordance with the original Stark mission, ma'am," he curtly stated.

"You know, you keep saying that," Pepper said pensively. "You keep saying that it was 'the Stark way' to build from within and keep it that way. But I recall a very different mission."

Tony once again took this cue to cut away from Pepper's feed, instead projecting to the board room a video from 1979 of his father recording a television advertisement promoting Stark Industries. Howard, dressed in a brown corduroy suit, leaned casually against his desk. "Stark Industries is an ideal that is meant to learn from the past, shape our present, and define the future. This is not a singular, individualized effort — it cannot be accomplished without the valued input of voices across the globe. We are an enterprise of collaborators and communicators, fostering a shared network of innovation around the world."

Tony cut back to his wife. She wore a satisfied grin. "Straight from the source himself, gentlemen. And if my father-in-law wasn't enough to convince you that Stark Industries was never meant to be solely an internal operation, might I remind you of how my husband lived his life?" Tony watched as the expressions of the men around the room, even Henry's, grew somber and introspective. "He did nothing but give. Everything he did was in the spirit of collaboration and teamwork. Even in his final moments…." Pepper's voice shook with intensity, looking at each ashamed man in the room as she said, "He gave _everything_ to save your future. We're all old enough in here to remember that, aren't we? Remember what it felt like to watch the people you knew disappear before your eyes? Or conversely, remember waking up and discovering that the world was five years older and had moved on without you?" She shook her head. "The only reason we're all here right now is because the Stark name has always been about delegation, outsourcing, and collaboration."

She then turned to Henry. "So! That said, we will be reinstating our joint association with Oakland before the opening bell tomorrow, do I make myself clear?" Upon hearing the vague mumbles of affirmation sound from around the room, she said with satisfaction, "Good. Meeting adjourned. You may go."

Pepper sat there, still as a statue as all fourteen men slowly filed out of the room. Henry was the last to go, shooting back one final glare at his boss before exiting. Once they had all left, Tony finally cut the feed. "And we are…out!" He reappeared as his hologram. He was beaming. "Well done, Chief!"

Pepper collapsed her straight posture and let out a relieved laugh. They whooped in jovial celebration at having regained control of the company. Pepper had stood and was headed straight for Tony to embrace him, but they both stopped within inches of each other, realizing that that wasn't physically possible anymore. Breathless, they nonetheless smiled at each other.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Tony shrugged. "That was all you, hon'. I just hacked their computer feed and pulled a soundbite from Dad." He pointed at her. "_You_ got your role back."

"I don't even know where that came from!" Pepper said in amazement. "But it felt so GOOD!"

Tony clapped his hands together and rubbed them in anticipation. "So!" he exclaimed. "How we celebrating? Shall I order you champagne? You want Coffee Guy to bring you your third latte of the day?"

But Pepper was electrified by her performance. She paced the room, wringing her hands. "I want to keep this momentum going! I feel like I could deadlift a truck right now!"

"Shuri?" he asked, predicting her next move.

She spun to face him, beaming as she raced back to her chair. "Absolutely. Call her up!"

He smiled at her in utter amazement. "You got it."

* * *

Pepper Potts had fully returned to the office, having not spent a full weekday at home in over two weeks. After seeing Morgan off to school each morning, he'd accompany Pepper on her commute, annoying her with bizarre music themes daily, then helping her with work throughout the day. She hadn't been bothered by Curtis or Henry or any of the other would-be usurpers ever since, and had finally been allowed to do her job to the fullest in complete peace. Well…that was, peace save Tony's typical antics.

But today, he was exceedingly calm. His hologram sat in the chair opposite her desk, his elbow resting casually on the arm, with his hand supporting his face as he gazed at her.

Pepper typed away at her computer, her focus strong and unwavering. Finally though, she sensed his stare and looked up. "What?" she asked with a smile.

"Oh nothing," he mused. "Just enjoying the view."

She blushed, grinning as she shook her head in attempts to wave him off. "Well, make yourself useful. Can you schedule a last-minute holo-meeting with the Secretary of Defense for tomorrow at… well they're in California right now, so it would be 7 PM our time?"

"Uhh…" Tony stammered, sitting upright. "Uh huh," he said, distractedly. His hologram flashed briefly, denoting an internal function he had just triggered that had gone unnoticed by Pepper. After a moment, he said, "Actually…now come to think of it, no can do."

Pepper frowned at this as she struggled to mentally remember her schedule. "I don't have anything for tomorrow night, do I?"

Tony winced. "Actually…"

Her expression fell. "What. Did. You. Do."

"I…might have arranged a dinner reservation at that steakhouse on 9th?"

Her eyes widened. "With who?!"

Tony winced even more as he squeaked, "…Coffee Guy?"

Pepper crossed her arms. "You're calling him right now. I'm going to cancel."

"Pepper…"

"RIGHT NOW!"

"Okay! Okay!" Tony said, holding his hands up defensively. "We can _totally_ do that…" He paused, donning a wry grin. "…but he seemed really excited when I told him."

Pepper's eyes somehow grew even wider. "_YOU_ told him?!"

"Well…I emailed him…posing as you?"

Pepper laid both her hands flat on the desk. She was irate. "Tony, I will kill you."

"Little late for that," he darkly joked. Pepper only glared at him. "Oh what, too soon?" he said incredulously. "Look, it doesn't have to be anything romantic, just…a dinner between friends!"

"A steakhouse does not scream 'friends,' Tony!"

"_Really_ good friends?" Pepper was still unamused. Tony sighed. "Just give it a chance. If nothing else, it will be really fun to watch him fall all over himself trying to impress you."

"You're not going, are you?" she asked with a furrowed brow, imagining just how awkward and unbearable enduring a date with her husband's consciousness in her ear would be.

"No, no," he assured her. "I'll stay in and torture Morgan and Hap'. Maybe invite Parker over. It'll be a night for the goodfellas." He shrugged. "Maybe we'll watch _Goodfellas_, I don't know!" Seeing her roll her eyes and smile at this, he leaned closer to her. Softly, he asked, "So what do you say?"

Pepper sighed laboriously again, and took a good long while to answer. When she finally did, however, her eyes met Tony's, then finally offered a reluctant nod.

He grinned. "Okay then!"

Suddenly, Morgan's voice loudly echoed throughout the room. "WHAT'D SHE SAY?!" she asked.

Pepper instantly glared at Tony upon discovering that he had called her and she had been listening to this entire conversation. Under his breath, Tony scowled, "Context clues, Sherlock. And discretion! Honest to God!"

"…sorry…" Morgan mumbled weakly. "B…but she's going on the date? She agreed?"

"Yes, I agreed, co-conspirator," Pepper answered. "So happy to see that you two have been plotting behind my back," she mused sarcastically. After a slight pause, she asked Morgan with complete seriousness, "Morgan, you're fine with this?"

"Totally!" she replied cheerily. "I love David!" She took a moment here, then asked, "Actually, could you ask him to maybe bring some more of those blueberry scones?"

Pepper laughed and rolled her eyes. "Good_bye_, Morgan!"

Tony disconnected the call. He locked eyes with Pepper, and together they remained gazing at each other for quite some time. Finally, she said, "Don't get your hopes up. I'm not sure anything will come of this."

Tony shrugged. "If it does, it does. If not, that's fine too." He leaned closer toward her. "I mean it, Pep'. It doesn't have to be a love connection, but at the very least you need to go out and be with other people. People who are good and won't treat you like you're some sort of foreign species. And hey, if it does work out, imagine how wigged out he's gonna be when we break the news to him that I'm still around?" He raised his eyebrows mischievously. "Forget the in-laws! He's got an omniscient ex-husband to deal with!"

She squinted. "You're sure you're okay with this?"

"Only if you are."

Her smile was wide as she replied in a murmur, "I am now."

* * *

**More to come soon! Next up, we're going back to when Tony's hologram was made, featuring my aforementioned "surprise character." ...MJ! **

**\- JJJ**


	13. DS - Second Chances

**Hey hey, guys. So I'm a total liar— I know I teased you with a MJ-centric chapter next, which I promise is still in the works, but with ****_Spider-Man: Far From Home_**** truly just days away, I kinda want to hold off until it comes out. I know she's going to be a prevalent part of this new movie, and I am just concerned that whatever I write will be incongruous to her canonical character development and render it immediately dated. SO, it's coming, I promise, I just want to make sure I get her voice 100% right first. **

**INSTEAD, I'm going to post something that nobody asked for - what a crowd pleaser I am proving to be, right? This is a long but self-contained story that I wrote truly on a whim - I got really excited about the OC I made in the previous deleted scene, David, and specifically his backstory about coming back to life as one of the "Vanished." Plus, I've visualized a very specific actor as I've been writing him, so this chapter is just me being completely self-indulgent. My apologies in advance to my Pepperony shippers out there - believe me, I know they are the ULTIMATE OTP, but once again, I wanted to explore how a family dynamic could change with the addition of Tony's A.I., especially with what he set up for Pepper's future in the previous deleted scene. What inherent challenges would there be, and how would someone new fit into their dynamic?**

**SO. Enjoy this OC-centric chapter if you wish - it's just a little experiment I cooked up. If not, feel free to skip it. MJ is next, I promise, and she'll be here just as soon as ****_Far From Home_**** graces us with its long-awaited presence! **

**Thank you again for your amazing feedback and continued support,**

**\- JJJ **

Darkness. That's all that David could see, followed by sudden, blinding white light. He squinted as he blinked, his eyes adjusting to his surroundings. He was laying face down on the navy blue carpet of the office he had worked in for seven years. He didn't understand—had he had a medical emergency? Did he pass out? He slowly pressed himself up into a seated position as he looked around. Had anyone even noticed that he had collapsed? Was anyone even _here_? As he slowly began to get his bearings, he noticed specifics about his surroundings—the layout of the cubicles all looked the same, but everything seemed…emptier. All the lights were off, save the streaming daylight that broke through the wall of windows on his left. With a hand raised to shield his eyes, he squinted as he looked down on the Manhattan streets below. His eyes widened as he saw a truly shocking sight—the streets were almost entirely vehicle-free. One of the world's most highly populated metropolitan areas was practically a ghost town. He continued to stare in amazement as he saw people slowly begin to stumble out into the streets.

"What the hell?" he whispered.

"Hello?" a panicked voice sounded from the back of the room. "Is anyone there?"

David's head swiveled toward the sound of the voice. He rose to his feet, seeing that he was not alone. The source of the cry had been Logan, a curly-haired intern who had just started with the company. They two locked eyes, as she stammered, "What's happening?" She raised a shaky finger as she pointed at him. "I saw…I saw you turn to dust."

His blood ran cold upon hearing her say this. The memory came flooding back to him. He had been on his way back to his cubicle from the copy machine when he first saw the office administrative assistant Tej vanish before his eyes. The sound of screaming quickly surrounded him, followed by a curious sensation. The last thing he saw was the harrowing image of his legs disintegrating under him as he fell helpless to the ground.

Now, his eyes caught another sight rustling from the corner of his eyes. There, at his side was Tej, his eyes the size of dinner plates. "Where is everyone?" he asked.

"I'm…not sure," David asked. He then called out to the rest of the office. "Is there anyone else here?"

Four more figures emerged. Now in addition to David, Tej, and Logan were Tara and Lou from accounting, Jose from HR, and Sasha from sales. The seven of them gathered around each other, all talking at once: "What's happening?" "Are you okay?" "Where is everybody?" "Are we dead?"

Suddenly, Sasha pointed towards the distant hallway. "Look!"

All their heads turned in the direction to which she was referring. There, they saw a startled cleaning guy with his mouth agape. He was frozen, his hand hovering in midair, holding one of his earbuds. He extended his index finger and started pointing at them emphatically. "You…you just…came outta NOWHERE!"

Tej took off towards the man, leading the others to interrogate him. "What happened?" he asked him. "Where is everyone?"

The man stammered, "I was here cleaning and all of a sudden there…there was a bright light and - poof! You just appeared on the ground!"

The seven coworkers shared another confused glance. The cleaning guy then asked them, "Y'all died, didn't you?"

"Oh my god," said a now-hysterical Logan, putting her hands up to her mouth, "We _are_ dead, aren't we? This is death?" David put a hand on her shoulder to try to calm her down, though he himself had no idea what was presently happening.

"No!" the cleaning guy emphatically replied. "I mean…you did, but…you're back! It's been five years!"

"Five years?!" they each exclaimed amongst each other.

"It's 2023?" Jose gasped, putting a hand up to his forehead in disbelief as he closed his eyes. "My wife…she was pregnant. That means she had our son."

David's mind instantly flashed to his own wife, Diane. The two had been married for the better part of a decade. If this was all true, had she been mourning him for five years? Or maybe she had "died" as well. His mind raced as he struggled to think of all her possible locations she could have been on the day he had disappeared.

His thoughts were interrupted however, by Tara, who was staring out the large windows overlooking the city below. Thousands had now flooded the streets, congregating and scattering in haphazard patterns. "I think everyone who died came back," she whispered. She looked to the others, searching for answers. "Why are we back?"

The cleaning guy who had suddenly realized, "Wait…if everyone is back, then that means…" He frantically reached for his phone and unlocked it, pushing numbers rapidly. Pressing the phone to his ear, the man's eyes instantly filled with tears as he said, "Ma?" He then turned and walked away from them, overcome with emotion.

His success sent the other seven scurrying for their own phones. David's hands went to his back pockets, but found nothing there. Of course— he had never kept his phone on him while he worked in the office. He raced back to the cubicle that had once been his but found it entirely empty. In five years, they must have cleared out the personal items of anyone who had disappeared.

Walking back to the group, he nonverbally questioned if anyone had gotten through. Only Logan had, and was at present weeping over the phone with both her exceedingly worried parents. The rest had been unsuccessful. "I think the signals are clogged," Tej reported. "I'm getting zero service."

Sasha was beginning to panic. "I had two kids at home," she was saying. "I don't know if they made it or where they are. I have to get out of here!"

All of a sudden, the ground beneath them began to quake. The inhabitants of the floor all hit the ground to steady themselves, crying out in fear.

"What the hell was that?" Lou asked, his voice high with tension.

"I don't know," David replied to them all.

"Dad?" Logan was asking over the phone. "Are you still there? I'm here! We just had an earthquake—I don't know what's happening!"

Jose picked himself up. "Figures, doesn't it?" he asked sardonically. "We all come back to life just to get eviscerated by an earthquake."

David was unconvinced, however. "That didn't feel like an earthquake."

"Oh my god…" Logan was now saying. She put a hand over the microphone of her cell and raced back to the group, "My mom's saying that her emergency radio is reporting a UFO upstate that caused that shaking!"

"Another damn spaceship?!" Lou exclaimed. "That's what's causing all this!"

"We don't _know_ that," Tej countered.

"Oh don't we? We got that donut-shaped one days before we died, now another one the moment we come back to life inexplicably?" Lou shook his head. "This alien shit is what's gotten us into this mess, mark my words."

Sasha was in hysterics. "I'm not dying again without seeing my kids! I'm getting out of here!"

David put up his hands to stop her. "Sasha, we _all_ have got people we gotta find. Logan, Tej, Lou, all of us! I don't know where my wife is. We all want to get out of here, but panicking isn't going to help anything."

Tara, who was still looking out at the scene below, reported, "It's chaos out there. I don't know how _any_ of us are getting out of here."

"We won't," David said, "Not unless we stick together."

"What?" asked Lou.

David elaborated, "We band together and push through. Let's figure where everyone's heading and make sure they get there. What d'ya say?"

The others were quick to agree. David interrupted Logan's call to ask where her destination was, but she informed the group that she was instead going to stay where she was, as both her parents were at present coming to retrieve her. Upon hearing this, the remaining six headed down the elevator. When the doors opened, they were greeted to the visual of innumerable people jostling together in complete confusion.

"Jesus Christ," Sasha said under her breath. "It's insanity out there."

They crossed the abandoned lobby to the looming glass doors, the only thing that separated them from the chaos outside. "Okay everyone," David instructed . "Let's all link arms. Hold tight to each other and don't let anyone break between you."

Jose turned to him. "How are we getting out of here?"

"There's an alley behind the building where I go to smoke," Tara told them. "We cross back there, that can get us to 89th street, which would be a little less crazy."

David gave his approval of this plan with a firm nod of his head. "That's when we'll split up. Tara, Lou, and Tej are heading North, while me, Sasha and Jose are heading South. Sound good?"

The seven collectively agreed to the plan, firmly linking arms in a tight line. Taking a deep breath, David kicked open the door, wherein the team was buffeted by a wind of incoherent noise. With Tara leading the way, the six began to make their way across the sidewalk, moving slowly, step by step towards the alley. David's eyes scanned the absolute anarchy they were witnessing: People pacing back and forth, trying to get a signal on their cell phones, careening into one another, grabbing at one another. One man in a suit was standing on a newspaper distribution box, reading from his phone. "—2018, half of earth's organisms vanished without any warning!"

Just then, a woman slammed into him. Her eyes wild, she balled up his suit jacket in her fists desperately. "Have you seen a man? He's about this tall? His name is Wayne - Wayne Parcell. He wears glasses?"

His senses overloaded, David could only shake his head and continue to forge his way with his group onward and away from her. The last thing he saw before they rounded the corner into the alley was a group of international tourists speaking to a haggard-looking man. "You died!" he was explaining to them. "We don't know why you're back, but you were _dead_!"

Finally within the alley, the six dropped their hold on one another and sprinted to the end of the alley and on to 89th street. They said their goodbyes as they split up, David, Tej, and Sasha heading South while the others sprinted North.

David's party kept close to one another. The first destination was the restaurant of Tej's uncle. His family lived together outside of Manhattan, and with the chaos they had just observed, unlikely was it that any public transportation was operating. The restaurant was his best bet.

Their trek was virtually wordless, as each individually fretted about their own fates. On their way, they passed others racing around them, trying to find their own ways back to lost loved ones. David caught sight of a young woman sitting on some steps weeping into the fur of her cat. So the guy on the newspaper stand had been right…all living organisms really _had_ all vanished inexplicably, not just people.

"It's here!" Tej finally cried out. "My uncle's place is coming up on the right!"

Though they together increased their pace, Tej took off at a pace that the older David and Sasha couldn't keep up with. They slowed upon seeing him beat rapidly on the metal grate that had sealed the establishment inside. Then, after a minute, the grate lifted and an elderly man stumbled into the street in astonishment, hugging Tej close to him.

"C'mon," David said to Sasha. "He's okay. Let's get you back to your kids."

"You sure?" she asked, falling in pace with him. "Aren't you next?"

He was, but upon watching Tej reunite with his family, David now preferred to find Diane on his own. Anything could have happened in five years, and the thought of there being a witness to a potentially bad situation was enough to set him on any number of errands in order to avoid this fate. So, he lied to her, saying that he lived much further than he actually did.

As they made their way into a residential neighborhood, what had once been a scene of confusion and turmoil had now shifted into one of love and unity. They saw far more individuals now holding one another, having tearful reunions and loud celebrations.

Sasha said the words David was thinking: "What's going to happen now? The world went on five years without us. Now that we're back…what's going to happen?"

Bleakly, he replied, "I…I don't know."

Her eyes were fearful as she said, "Do you think we'll get to keep our jobs?"

His silence gave her her answer— he had no idea what the future would hold, or what the state of the planet would be. They were in an epicenter of confusion, and apparently a large-scale alien invasion was occurring within their own state as they spoke. Nothing was promised, not even the present.

All of a sudden, Sasha stopped dead in her tracks, looking up a small flight of steps that led to her house. She gulped. "This is me." Her eyes scanned the doorway, but she didn't make a move.

He laid a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

Turning to him, she rapidly blinked back tears. "What if my babies are…?" Her voice cracked and trailed as she choked on her tumultuous emotions.

"It's alright," he reassured her, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "If we don't find them, then we'll keep looking, okay? We're gonna stick together, we promised!"

She nodded, wiping her eyes, then bravely scaled the steps. She rang the buzzer and waited. When the door opened, a teenage old boy answered the door. His face reflected shock, grief, and relief all at once as he whispered, "Mom?"

Sasha's brow was furrowed. "Dante?"

The boy burst into tears. "No, Mom. It's me, it's Aaron!"

"Aaron!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him tightly. "Oh my god, my baby! Oh, you're so big!"

David watched them from the sidewalk, breathing a sigh of relief at their reunion.

"Baby," Sasha cooed, pulling away from him. "Where's your big brother? Where's Dante?"

"I don't know, Mom," he replied. "You never came home. He and you never came back!"

She turned to David, her mind running through the possibilities. "Oh my god, he vanished too. He must have disappeared…in school. He's at school!"

David looked at her earnestly. "You want me to go with you?"

She stood, hugging her son close to her. "We can find him," she reported. "You go get your wife back. You gonna be okay?"

"Absolutely," he said, though that was far from certain. "What about you?"

She held Aaron tighter. "We're fine," she vowed.

Now on his own, David turned back northward towards his apartment. He now saw nothing but the path in front of him. His muscles were fatigued as he ran further, but he could not be deterred. The thought of Diane was the only thing pushing him onward. He had to know what had happened. As he grew closer to his building, David's run grew to a sprint. He felt his blood pulsating in his ears as grew closer and closer. Please let her be there, he prayed. Please.

Turning the corner and quickly scaling the six steps up to the lobby, he quickly punched in the door code from memory. A loud buzz granted him entry, and he yanked open the door forcefully as he pushed his way in. After slamming his hand into the up button of the elevator, he quickly scanned the mailboxes in the lobby. _Room 405, Room 405…_ His finger hovered over the name on the label, and his heart plummeted. What once read "Boggs" now read "Lee." His panic was temporarily paused by the rickety elevator doors opening. He raced inside and pushed "4" easily a dozen times. As it slowly made its way up, David's mind raced. Maybe whoever this new tenant was knew Diane's whereabouts. Or, maybe she too had died. She certainly would come back to their apartment eventually to try to find him. Perhaps he could convince the current resident to let him wait for her arrival.

The doors opened with an unsettling clang, and David burst out of them like a racehorse, sprinting to the door marked "405." He knocked rapidly, his sides heaving from the physical exertion of having gotten here.

He tried to stifle his heavy breathing and listen for any signs of life on the other side of the door. Sure enough, he could hear a TV loudly blasting the news, which was doing its absolute best to cover the complete disorder that had been occurring outside. He knocked again, fearing that he hadn't been heard over the TV the first time.

He could hear a woman's voice within cry out something incoherent, followed by a man's voice in a lower tone. The TV was silenced, as David heard footsteps approaching the door and unlatch it. He was shocked to see a tall man holding a toddler on his hip answer the door. David quickly took a look at the interior surroundings of the apartment. From what limited view he had from the doorway, the interior to his home looked entirely different.

The man's face changed upon seeing David. He froze, his jaw tight.

David decided to speak first. Breathily, he said, "Hey, I'm so sorry about this but…I'm sure you heard about what's going on out there," he said, "And I used to live here. I'm looking for my wife? Diane Boggs? Do you know…maybe you bought this place off her, or was it abandoned?"

The man's jaw opened and closed several times, his mind racing of how next to proceed. He tightened his grip on his little boy with one arm, and with the other, he let go of the door and instead placed it on David's shoulder. "David," he said calmly, "I'm going to need you take a deep breath, okay?"

David recoiled from his touch. "How do you know my—" But his voice trailed upon looking further within his former residence. The door fell open, revealing a woman standing at the end of the hallway, her hands over her mouth as she sobbed.

She looked older, and her hair was cut short, but it was unmistakably her. "Diane?" he whispered.

As she shuddered with another sob, David caught the glint of her wedding ring—a ring that wasn't his. In horror, his eyes travelled back to the man standing in front of him, then to his son. No…_their_ son. He closed his eyes as he thought to the name on the mailbox. Diane had survived. She still lived here. But instead of just David, here before him stood the husband she had replaced him with, as well as the child this new couple shared.

He felt as though he had been through a hurricane as he turned from the scene and stumbled back down the apartment floor's hallway. "David!" Diane cried, racing after him. "Please! God, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

His ears were ringing and he felt sick to his stomach. Still, Diane pursued him. "David!" she cried. "Please come inside! Wait!"

_David….David!_

"David!"

He suddenly opened his eyes to the cold darkness of night, leaving that horrible scene. From the right corner of his vision, a soft, golden light flicked on. He turned his head. Entering his view was Pepper, her long, auburn hair draping down like a veil as she leaned over him. Her eyes fraught with worry. "Wake up, sweetheart," she said, her voice soft yet direct. Now seeing that his eyes were open, she leaned over him. "You were having another nightmare."

He struggled to catch his breath as he sat up. "I'm sorry," he immediately apologized. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he said, "I didn't realize how frequent they were until living with someone else."

She drew close to him, wrapping an arm around him and resting her chin on his left shoulder. "What was it this time?"

He hesitated here. Gulping, he lied, "I can never remember. As soon as my eyes open—_whoosh_— it's gone." He turned his head toward hers. "I'm sorry this keeps happening. I can sleep somewhere else…"

She craned her neck so that her forehead pressed against his. "Not a chance," she said. "I'm used to this. It's fine."

He furrowed his brow. "Morgan?"

She shook her head. "Tony. He suffered from severe PTSD for the better part of ten years. After the snap…it was the worst I'd ever seen him." She nodded sadly. "It was almost every night there at the end."

He stiffened at the mention of Tony. None of this had been an easy transition for him. Over a year ago, this had all started because he had received an email from an unknown recipient. The signature on the email was that of Pepper Potts, a woman he had idolized ever since meeting her right when he began working the lobby cafe in the Stark Industries building. All of a sudden, this larger-than-life celebrity in her own right and far and away the most intelligent person he knew was inviting him for dinner at a fancy steakhouse he couldn't even dream of being able to afford. He had instantly agreed without a second thought, and had arrived to the steakhouse early. Every moment he sat at their table alone, he grew increasingly paranoid. His longtime coworker TJ had been privy to his long-time crush—was this his idea of a joke? Eventually, he had completely begun to spiral into thoughts of self loathing. _Idiot_, he thought. _Why would Pepper Potts of all people ask you on a date?_

But miraculously, she showed up. She was always stunning, but that night she seemed absolutely magical. She had appeared unnervingly on edge the entire night—hadn't _she_ been the one to invite _him_? But after about fifteen minutes of painful small-talk, things finally began to run smoothly. When the date had ended, David had returned to his apartment unsure if what he had just experienced was a date. Maybe it was just a really formal work meetup… But the next morning, waiting in his inbox was another message from Pepper, thanking him for the lovely night and asking to do meet again soon. David marched to work with a spring in his step, preparing Pepper's drink early so that it would be ready the moment she typically arrived. However, he was crestfallen and confused to see her march straight past his cafe and into the elevators.

He finally decided to swallow his fear. This was his one and only chance to date the woman of his dreams, and he would damned if he would let that opportunity slip through his fingers. So, he sent an email to her, planning a simple date in SoHo, taking her to what he declared was the very best pizza in all of New York, followed by catching a movie. Pepper instantly and enthusiastically agreed via email, which only further confused him— Why was her behavior in person so divergent from her behavior digitally? Again, Pepper was late to their date, arriving the moment he was about to give up hope entirely. They again had a delightful evening, and Pepper had been grateful to him for giving her a sense of normalcy that she had once thought long-since gone. Outside the cinema, he tried to kiss her. When she backed away, he nearly turned and walked straight into traffic out of sheer embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry," she had stammered, grabbing his hands in hers. "I just don't think I'm…I just need time."

"No, no, it's cool," he reassured her, though he was red-faced and unable to look her directly in the eyes. Finally, he asked, "Okay, was I _completely_ off? I think I'm assuming that this was something that you don't seem to be onboard for."

She sighed deeply. "No, I'm…it's difficult to explain," she said. "But you are a great person…and I _do_ want to know you. I just need to go slowly."

_I do want to know you_, she had said. He was hoping for a more declarative statement of her affection, but this was still promising. In that moment, he vowed to stay at her side until the time in which she would finally be ready to take that leap.

From that moment on, their time together increased. Pepper would take her breaks and lunches in the cafe with him, and they began going out more frequently. A month in, they had drinks in his apartment. There, they finally were able to talk in depth about their previous spouses. David told her everything about Diane, detailing the aftermath of his discovery of her remarriage. It had been awful for Diane, who was wracked with guilt about the entire ordeal, although it had been entirely out of her control. Initially they had tried to be friends, as David never blamed her for what had happened, but that relationship proved too harmful for Diane. They finally agreed to cut ties altogether, pretending that their marriage had never happened, and tried to move on. But David had found it exceedingly difficult to do so. When Pepper talked about Tony, however, David could sense that there was still information she was withholding from him. He never pried, always aware of how fragile their new relationship still was. About twenty minutes into talking about Tony, Pepper began to cry. She spoke about her continued mourning despite the passage of over a decade, her fears for Morgan, and an ever-present sense of overwhelming guilt that hung over her every minute she spent with David. He remained silent and only held her, feeling it wiser just to listen. He could never fully understand her pain, no one could, but he knew at the very least, he could be there for her. She left the apartment that night without saying much else, and again David wondered if this would be the last time they saw one another. She clearly was still bereft about Tony, and the guilt she had spoken about, much like Diane had been, might have proved too much to bear.

He had gone into work the following Monday with that grim expectation, but was floored to find Pepper already outside his boarded up cafe, waiting for him and wringing her hands. "I need to allow myself to be open to change," she began, trembling. "You're a good person and I have feelings for you," she said, stepping closer toward him. "This is going to be a challenge for both of us, I think, but if you're willing to be patient with me, I'd like to try again with you."

They kissed for the first time there, in the deserted lobby. Three security guards who had been watching this love confession cheered for them, marking a jovial start to what would ultimately become a very pure and seemingly simple romance. Eventually, Pepper began inviting him out to the top secret location of her cabin home, where he reunited with Morgan after having gone years without seeing her. Morgan was enthusiastic about her mother's new boyfriend, much to David's delight and relief. They would spend hours playing board games, chatting by the pond, or investigating Morgan's work shed. There, she'd proudly show off new tech she was designing. He would listen politely, though she would be so impassioned about her work in the scientific field that she might as well be speaking an alien dialect as far as he was concerned.

One night, while the three were eating dinner, David started at a firm thud hitting the roof above them. Pepper and Morgan shared a startled look, and Morgan sprinted from the table without a word. It was too late, however, for in the dining room window, an upside-down Spider-Man lowered himself from the roof via a web into view.

David shouted.

Spider-Man shouted.

And that's how David accidentally discovered that Peter Parker was actually Spider-Man. Peter was unaware of David's existence, and therefore thought it wouldn't be a problem to stop by his friends' home unannounced. The entire ordeal quickly became something the four of them laughed over, though Peter insisted that it would be best to make David sign a non-disclosure agreement in order to preserve his secret. He thought this would be the extent of the awkwardness of this unexpected turn of events, but he was wholly unprepared when he was left alone with Peter when Morgan and Pepper left the room to clear the dishes.

Peter had watched them go, grinning widely. Once they were out of earshot, his expression changed and he pointed his finger right up to David's face. "Listen up," he said intensely. "You hurt them? You're gonna have me to answer to, pal. You got it?"

Though Peter was easily half his age, David was not about to argue with the radioactive, acrobatic billionaire he was currently being threatened by.

Months passed like this. There were inherent challenges to their relationship, but overall David spent the majority of his waking hours convincing himself that he wasn't dreaming. He had somehow landed the most amazing woman in the world, and in so doing grew closer to her daughter that he had always adored. He only prayed he wouldn't screw it up.

One autumn night, David had come to the cabin, as he had been doing with increased frequency. This time, however, Pepper and Morgan were acting erratically, snapping at each other, barely making conversation, and overall generating a disconcerting energy that was palpable. Eventually, he asked, "Okay, what's going on? Something's been off all night."

Pepper and Morgan shared another tentative glance. Finally, Morgan murmured, "We've got something we need to tell you."

They brought him to the black glass table that sat in the center of the living room. He looked between them, confused as to why they were so solemn over what he thought was just an ordinary coffee table. After taking a deep breath, Pepper laid her hand on the surface of the glass. A red light illuminated from the center of the table.

"Whoa-ho!" he exclaimed. "I didn't know that did that!"

But if he was impressed by just the appearance of the A.I. monitor, he was wholly unprepared for the voice that accompanied it.

"You guys sure about this?" Tony asked.

David jerked his head, looking between the girls. "It speaks?"

Pepper nodded solemnly, then laid a hand on his arm. "David," she said, her voice low and sorrowful, "If this changes things, I completely understand.." She turned back to the table, saying, "Go ahead."

The light on the table changed, projecting an image that made David freeze in shock. Before him stood a hologram image of Tony Stark. He looked directly at him, motioning with his arms as if to say, _Yeah, it's me_. "Hey, Dave," he said casually. "This is awkward, but…I'm Tony."

In equal parts shock and disbelief, David started to laugh. He looked between Morgan and Pepper, expecting them to break at any moment and tell them this was some sort of elaborate joke he wasn't quite comprehending. His heart sank when he saw that they were deadly serious. He shook his head. "I don't understand…" he said, "What is this?"

Tony, Pepper and Morgan each took turns explaining how the actual, physical Tony Stark had melded his consciousness with an A.I. and how Morgan had discovered it in the year previous. Tony told David that the emails between him and Pepper in the beginning of their relationship had been sent solely by him, as to push Pepper to actually deliver on her promise of remaining open to new possibilities. David mostly stayed silent, asking a few questions of clarification here and there, but primarily allowing for the family to explain themselves. After they had finished, they all sat silently, watching him intently for any clues about his response. But David was overwhelmed. He politely bid the three Starks goodnight, got in his car, and left.

He knew Pepper would be beside herself with anxiety over the future of their relationship given this information, and even though he hated that he couldn't provide her with the assurance from him that she so needed in that moment, he needed to get away from that scene. He had to process all he had learned. He was unnerved at the notion that his relationship had been tampered with by not only a computer, but also the intelligence of his girlfriend's ex-husband, who had silently been there watching them as he spent time with his wife and daughter in the home they built for themselves. This was also not to mention the fact that his girlfriend's ex-husband was none other than Tony Stark, the very reason he was still alive.

He spent hours in his apartment mulling this all over. At three in the morning, he finally dialed the cabin, thinking that if Pepper had fallen asleep, she just wouldn't answer. He was shocked to hear the phone pick up immediately, though no voice sounded on the other end.

"Pepper?" he asked.

He heard a sigh on the other end of the line. "No, man," Tony replied. "I'm sorry. It's…it's me. She just went to bed."

David tensed, uncertain of how to proceed. Tony filled the silence by saying, "Look… please don't let me stand in the way. The real Tony intended for this A.I. service to be a temporary thing. I can go away at the drop of a hat if I'm intruding."

"Sir, it's…unsettling, I'm not gonna lie," he replied, "But…if it's what she and Morgan need, then I'm not going to be the one to ask you to go." He paused. "I'm willing to make this work if you are."

Tony took another deep breath, then said, "I haven't seen her this pent up in years. I think she really loves you, and she's terrified of losing you. My purpose now is to serve them, and to see that they're taken care of. I'm willing to make this work because I see how much she cares about you."

That was all that needed to be said, and was to date the longest conversation the two had shared just between them. They had co-existed as an unconventional family unit for three months, and at the start of the new year, Pepper asked David to move in. This was the state of affairs he now currently found himself in— cohabiting with the love of his life, her deceased, omniscient husband, and the daughter they shared.

Back in their bed, Pepper squeezed his shoulders, sensing his discomfort upon mentioning Tony. "What is it?" she asked, knowing full well the answer.

With a large intake of breath, David straightened his posture, looked to her and smiled. "I think I just need some air. I'm gonna go take a walk. You go on back to bed."

As he stood, she asked, "Are you sure? You need anything?"

He shook his head, coming around to her side of the bed and kissing her forehead. "No, I've already kept you up enough as is," he insisted. "I'll be fine."

As he switched off her nightstand light, she said, "Don't be up too long."

"I won't," he promised, as he left out their bedroom door.

Still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, David yawned as he walked down the hallway towards the stairs. He paused upon seeing a slight crack in Morgan's door. She never usually left the door open. Gingerly, he pressed his palm against it, slowly opening the door just enough to find that her bed was empty. He pursed his lips. _Morgaaaan_… he grumbled internally.

He went down to the ground level floor, upon doing so, passing Tony's A.I. light swirling idly above the black table. He silently passed it, hoping to remain unnoticed as he entered the kitchen. There, he put the kettle on and set to work procuring ingredients. After a few minutes, his drink of choice had been brewed, and procuring his tennis shoes as he walked with a steaming mug outside in the cold, March night air and out to the illuminated shed that was presently blasting hard rock. He knocked, and as soon as he did, Morgan cut the music. She hesitantly cracked open the door. "H-hey, David," she said weakly, her smile looking more sheepish than genuine.

"Whatcha doin'?" he asked pointedly.

"…building?"

"At two in the morning?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"…yeah?"

"_Should_ you be building at two in the morning?"

"….no?"

He sighed, then extended the mug through the cracked door. "Well, the least I can do is provide you with fuel," he said with faux-sternness. "Just this once though, okay?"

She happily accepted the drink, brewed exactly how she had told him she liked it. "Thank you so much!" she replied eagerly, taking a giant gulp. Wiping her upper lip, she asked just as he was beginning to take his leave, "Wait, why are _you_ up so late?"

"Eh, couldn't sleep," he said simply.

"The nightmares again?" Morgan asked with concern. So Pepper had told her…

He gave a slight laugh. "Yeah," he admitted.

"You know, my dad used to get those all the time," she said. "I was really young, but I remember I'd wake up to the sound of him yelling." She shrugged. "Maybe you could talk to him about them." She cringed, "Oh wait…or is that…weird for you?"

He shook his head nonchalantly. "No, not at all," he blatantly lied. "I should definitely talk to him."

"He's always online," she said helpfully. "He'll be up now, if you still find yourself unable to go back to sleep."

"Yeah, maybe I'll do that," he said, though the sound of speaking to Tony tonight sounded like the very last thing on earth he wanted to do. He bid Morgan goodnight…or…good morning, as it were, and then headed back into the house. He slipped out of his shoes and was hoping to slink back to Pepper's bed unnoticed when he heard Tony say from the table, "So you're trying to play 'Cool Dad,' huh?"

Caught, David exhaled slowly out of his nose. Taking a breath, he began walking towards the table. "Whatdja say?" he asked politely.

Tony appeared seated on the couch, his hologram wearing his more casual, long-sleeved T-shirt attire MJ had designed. "Believe me, you're talking to a pro. Being the father figure to a kid that's not yours is kinda my speciality. You get to be 'Cool Dad.' The 'I'd rather you drink that beer as long as you're doing it around me' sorta guy."

David smirked, feeling himself tense up to the challenge. "I'm…not giving Morgan alcohol."

"Ah, but secret 2 AM lattes? The whole 'don't tell Mom' vibe going on?" He shook his head and shrugged. "It's fine. I see your play. And it's undoubtedly effective."

David was uncomfortable. "Look, if you want me to go send her back to bed…" he offered.

Tony held up his hands defensively. "I didn't say that—"

"—Because she is your daughter," David continued under him.

The two spoke concurrently. "—It's really more a personal preference—"

"—it's more up to you—"

"— you _are_ an adult, aren't you?"

"—I'm not one to make that call."

The two men stared blankly at one another, simultaneously defensive and indifferent towards one another. Believing they were at an impasse, David was just about to turn to go back up the stairs when Tony broke the awkward silence with, "So, nightmares, huh?" He motioned for David to join him in the armchair opposite him.

He really didn't want to do this right now, but Tony only blinked at him expectantly. So, he meandered towards the chair and sat in it uncomfortably. He drummed his fingers against the arms. "Uh…yeah. Nightmares," he answered.

Tony pressed his fingertips together and brought them to his lips pensively, as though he was playing a therapist. "What about?" he asked.

David couldn't even bring himself to talk to Pepper about his dreams, let alone Tony. He tensed his shoulders as he said, "I don't really remember them."

"Liar," Tony swiftly replied.

David laughed incredulously. "Yeah?" he challenged. "You're telling me you remember all your nightmares?"

"Absolutely," Tony delivered right back.

Stepping up to the challenge, David asked point blank, "What were they, then?"

But Tony was unfazed. "My failings. All of them. Afghanistan, New York, Sokovia, Titan. It was just the constant reliving of those moments—watching the man that saved my life die in front of me, putting the bomb through that wormhole, losing control of Ultron…Parker… " He took a deep breath, letting himself move on from those dark thoughts. "Okay, your turn," he chirped.

"I _really_ don't remember," he tried again.

Tony clicked his tongue skeptically. "C'mon now, Boggs, I showed you mine, you show me yours."

Sighing in exasperation, David finally cracked. "Okay, fine!" he said. "I dream of Diane." He lifted his hands aggressively. "You happy? You like hearing that I'm dreaming about my ex-wife as I lay next to yours?"

"Not particularly," Tony countered, though his voice still carried little trace of anything resembling resentment. "But I need more specifics here. What sort of dreams?"

"It's just the same one," he replied, averting his gaze. "It's the memory I have of me waking up after you guys restored the universe." He looked up at the hologram. "Except while you all were destroying evil incarnate, the rest of us were wandering around wondering what the hell was happening and why everything was different all of a sudden. And you have people just as shell-shocked as you, looking directly in your face and telling you that you were dead…" He laughed, bitterly. "And then after all that, you return home to find that the life you wanted now belongs to someone else." Tony remained silent, processing these words as David vented them. Finally, David finished his thought with, "I just don't understand why I'm still harping on this when I've got a totally different life now. And in so many ways, a better one." Having realized what he said, David quickly offered a swift, "I'm sorry."

Tony furrowed his brow. "Why are you apologizing to me?"

"It's…uncomfortable. Talking to you about my issues," he stammered.

But Tony continued to prod at him. "Why?"

"Because!" he exclaimed in exasperation. "Because I'm sitting here, opposite you talking about how great my life with your family is!" He shrugged. "I wouldn't be here if you hadn't died." He took a moment and considered this statement fully. "In…so many ways I wouldn't be here."

Tony took a deep breath and leaned back into the couch casually. "Yeah, Dave?" he said simply, "Your nightmare conundrum doesn't seem that inexplicable to me. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy," he explained. "You came home to discover that some other guy took over your life…"

"—and I feel like I'm now doing the same thing to you," David finished his thought. Tony only raised his eyebrows matter-of-factly, confirming that they were in agreement. David asked, "Is this weird for you? To have me here?"

"Depends on what you mean," Tony snarkily replied. "Do you mean that as in 'is it weird to have you here at two in the morning talking to me about bad dreams?' If so, yes. If you mean, 'is it weird to have you around at all,' then no."

Exasperated, David leaned forward. "I'm with your wife," he said. "That doesn't…bother you at all?"

"Nope."

"Not even a bit?"

"Not even."

David narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, you're full of shit."

"What?!"

Now grinning, he explained, "I may not have known you when you were alive, but I know for a fact that you'd sooner—" He choked on the word "die," which did not go unacknowledged by an amused Tony. He regained his traction with, "—you'd never be okay with Pepper seeing anyone else. If you're supposed to be his actual consciousness, then this is complete agony for you." When the hologram just stared blankly back at him, he prodded, "Well? Is it?"

Tony raised an eyebrow. "I'm more intrigued by what there is to gained from me answering that question."

"You're deflecting!"

"And you're annoyingly insistent," he countered, shifting in his seat. "So I tell you that I'm riddled with jealousy. That every time I see you two together I think of at least twelve ways to kill you. To what end? So you can be the bigger man?"

"No, I—" David quickly stammered, suddenly feeling immense shame.

"To prove that you won?"

"No!' he insisted. "I…I just think I need to know where you stand. Because knowing that you're still here in some way…" His voice trailed. "Well, frankly it's—"

"Getting in the way," Tony finished. He took a deep breath. "Okay, Boggs, if it'll put your mind at ease, listen up because I'm only going to say this once." He looked at him directly as he said, "When you first started coming by the house, I thought I'd made a giant mistake, setting you and Pepper up. Not because of you, but because of the envy I felt at seeing her slowly starting to move on. Which was rather upsetting, because wasn't this what I wanted? Wasn't it _me_ who suggested that she see other, real people? Then why was I reacting that way?" He closed his eyes briefly. "I am based on Tony's consciousness, you're right. But that's the great thing about being 'artificial.' You can alter what's getting in the way."

David's mouth fell open when he understood his meaning. "You manually shut down your jealous impulses!" he exclaimed. "Tony…"

He shrugged. "It had to be done."

But David felt awful. "Jesus, Tony," he said again. "I could have gone away. Neither of them need me, you know that, right? Pepper and Morgan would be more than fine without me here."

"Yeah?" he replied. "Imagine I wasn't in the picture. That I had died and stayed dead in all forms. Would you so quickly throw in the towel and go home? Or would you fight to the death to keep them?"

David didn't need to consider this for a moment. Immediately he answered, "I'd fight."

"Exactly," he said. "That's why what's done is done— bye bye ego." He shrugged. "You're a good dude, Dave. That's why I picked you."

David was flattered, but also unnerved by this comment. "Actually about that," he said, sitting back into his couch. "We were engaged temporarily in a rather flirty email chain, you and me," he mused. "Gotta say, it didn't feel _great_ to discover that that was you."

Tony snorted. "I'm a tease, what can I say?"

David flinched uncomfortably, asking a question he had long wondered. "But," he asked, "And I mean, I guess that it doesn't really matter, because the end result is the same…was it just you that picked me?"

"Ah," he said in understanding. "You're asking if Pepper felt anything on her own without my interference." He cocked his head to one side. "Well let's just say this— I gave her hell about several guys clearly trying to cozy up to her. You were the only one she fought me over." He raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Methinks Potts doth protest too much."

David felt warmed by this information. He felt secure in his relationship as it was now, but had always secretly wondered about how it had come to be. It felt good to finally have some clarity about where he stood, especially in relationship to Tony.

"By the way, just between you and me," Tony said, interrupting this temporary relief, "She's thinking about inviting you to that benefit gala she's been talking about."

David was at first charmed by this, saying, "Oh!" in a tone that communicated how thoughtful and sweet he found this gesture. But then after a moment, the repercussions of such an invitation occurred to him. "Oh," he winced. "That would be the first time we'd be…"

"Publicly appearing together?" Tony said with click of his tongue. "Yep. Welcome to hell, pal."

"Oh _God_," David groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "See—this is what I'm talking about! I'm not cut out for this life! The tabloids are gonna rip me apart!"

"Cool your jets, Nervous Nelly," Tony said. "You'll get through it. You'll have their fifteen minutes of fame, then they'll throw you away when there's something else tasty they can chew on. That's how this works."

"But I'm not _you_," he said. "I'm not the playboy billionaire. I'm like…I'm like the guy who caters the event, not the guy on her arm!"

"Yeah? Well she _needs_ you to be the guy on her arm," Tony said plainly. "And if you love her, you'll do it."

"Of course I-" He sighed, giving him an exasperated, sidelong look. "You know I love her. And I don't care about what they say about me, it's her! And you! This whole 'Stark' thing is going to blow up when someone like me suddenly enters the picture!"

Tony nonchalantly raised his hands. "You want me to get you a suit? I'll get you a suit."

"I don't need you to get me a suit," he hissed.

Tony winced again. "Actually, you _really_ do. Have you seen the way you dress?"

From outside the house, Morgan watched the two continue their conversation. She had been crouched outside the living room window, huddled in her coat and kneeling on the porch, peeking within. She hadn't heard what they had been discussing, but had been reading their body language for the better part of fifteen minutes. She smiled as she now saw them emphatically gesturing to one another, in deep conversation that was most definitely still biting and snappy, but from David's genial expression, she knew that the two were at long last communicating efficiently and, what's more, getting along. She breathed a sigh of relief at this, settling down further into her place on the porch, resting her chin on the arm she had placed on the windowsill and closing her eyes. All was at peace.

...which was exactly why Morgan nearly leapt out of her skin when her father's voice sounded through the earpiece she had forgotten was in her ear. "Enjoying the show?" he asked.

She jumped, peering inside and seeing neither man within. She turned to look behind her, exclaiming "OH GOD!" when she found David was leaning against the front door frame, his arms crossed. "It's a little warmer inside, you know," he said.

Catching her breath, she said to both of them, "I didn't want to ruin such a beautiful moment!"

As David grabbed her hand to help her to her feet, Tony said, "Yeah? Well you still succeeded nevertheless. Consider this a moment ruined."

Now standing face to face with David, he asked her, "And you're heading...?"

"Back to the workshop?" she suggested hopefully.

"To bed," he said firmly.

"Oh-ho!" Tony said. "Look out, Morguna! Cool Dad's puttin' his foot down."

"Okay fine!" Morgan huffed, walking past David into the house. Tony's hologram reappeared in the living room when the had fully re-entered and shot an impressed look with David's expressed parenting skills.

"Actually," Morgan said from midway up the stairs, drawing their attention, "You guys know that you're both 'Cool Dad' to me, right?"

Both men were touched by this, looking only at her though they were extremely aware of the other's equal sense of pride at this comment by their daughter, or would-be daughter. Their responses, however, both erred on the side of humor and were delivered simultaneously.

"Yeah, nice try," said Tony.

"You're still going to your room," said David.

But Morgan knew the effect of her words on them. She turned to go to her room feeling satisfied and more fortunate than ever to have them both, when only a year ago, she had neither.

After making sure they heard her door click shut, David turned to the hologram, trying to think of anything that could succinctly communicate the many things he was grateful to him for. But Tony only shook his head as if to say, _Save it_. "See you in the morning, Boggs."

David smiled. "Night, Tony."

He reentered his bedroom that night feeling like a different man—a man with a sense of ease and self-assuredness that he hasn't felt since before the Decimation. He had thought that his days of knowing precisely where he stood had disappeared with the complete upheaval of the universe. But as he settled back down next to Pepper, everything felt right.

She stirred upon feeling his arm wrap around her. "That was a long walk," she murmured.

He drew closer to her. "Yeah, it was," he confirmed. "I worked a lot of stuff out." He closed his eyes. "I think we're gonna be okay."


	14. DS - The Future Mrs Spider P1

**Hi everyone! I can't believe I let a full year pass without finishing the final deleted scene, so here it is: "The Future Mrs. Spider," where Peter, Harley, and Morgan enlist MJ to design A.I. Tony's hologram, with some unexpected outcomes. This is part 1 of 3, and timeline-wise, it takes place way before either of the other two deleted scenes between Chapters 9 and 10. Hope you like it! - JJJ **

* * *

"Don't anyone. Say. A word," an irate Harley growled through his holo-screen.

Standing alongside one another in the shed, Peter and Morgan shared a silent, perturbed glance, tensing every muscle to not start laughing.

"Um…" Tony said.

"Don't," Harley cut him off.

"…I don't mean to complain…"

Morgan choked back a laugh, sending Peter off, his shoulders beginning to shake. The two were starting to crack.

Harley fumed, "Shut up! Stop laughing, both of you!"

"We're not!" insisted Peter, though he was openly struggling to suppress his chuckling as he spoke these words.

"I just…" Tony said, looking down at Harley's first attempt at a hologram rendering of himself that the three had just uploaded. Something had glitched spectacularly, causing the resulting image to freeze entirely so that only Tony's right arm waved aimlessly around uncontrollably, and his jaw moved up and down vertically without any other articulation whatsoever. "I just feel that this is the slightest bit…oh I dunno, terrifying?"

At this, Peter and Morgan entirely busted up altogether, cackling wildly.

"You two done?" Harley snapped at them.

Quickly, Morgan and Peter tried to get it together, taking deep breaths and intermittently chortling. "I'm sorry, Harl'," Peter choked. "Really, we're not laughing at you. We're…laughing that he looks… like a nutcracker!"

Morgan cackled at this again, sending the two into another laughing fit.

"Yeah," Tony said calmly, "I'm just gonna go ahead and override this feature," he said, deleting the file altogether and returning to his faceless, plain red interface. "Alright, hyenas," he scolded Peter and Morgan. "Get it together. How we fixing this?"

Wiping tears from their eyes, the two finally calmed down and went back to the drawing board. Tony brought up Harley's code, which filled the entirety of his interface's projection area with minuscule, infinitesimal 0's and 1's. Harley was tracking the same code from his desk in Tennessee, squinting to determine the error. Finally, after several moments of silent examination, he threw his hands up in defeat. "This is ridiculous!" he exclaimed. "I'm just going to have to start the whole thing from scratch! I'm wasting your guys' time!"

"Now hold on a damn minute," Tony countered, "If you three could figure out an alphanumeric code without an entire third of the information needed to crack it, we can figure this out too."

"No offense," Harley replied, "But we're talking a complex code to make a photorealistic rendering of you, not a code based on AC/DC lyrics."

Peter sounded in agreement. "And a moving photorealistic rendering at that."

Morgan furrowed her brow. "The one you tried…where did it come from, Harley?"

"What?"

"The image of Dad that you used. It had to come from somewhere. You didn't design it by hand, did you?"

He shook his head. "I took it off archival footage from a filmed talk Tony did at MIT in 2016. It was the only unedited, full-body footage I could find."

"What if that's the problem?" Morgan asked, looking between her three cohorts. "The footage just is what it is. We can only change it so much. We're trying to manipulate it to fit an independently operating A.I. that wasn't designed to do that."

Harley considered this. "You have a point. Tony, were you sensing resistance on your end?"

"Well, I don't know, Harley," Tony retorted sarcastically. "Was it my Pac-Man mouth, or my windmill arm that clued you in to that?"

"Wait…" Peter said, his eyes distant and deep in thought. He raised a finger and pointed it at Harley. "You didn't design him by hand…"

Bewildered, Harley replied, "Did we lose you there? I just said that. Welcome to the party, Pete."

"I know that!" he huffed. "What I'm saying is…what if the only way to make a rendering that doesn't resist new coding is to create a completely unique rendering from scratch?"

Morgan cocked her head to the side. "We'd need a digital artist who could animate a version of him."

"Yeah," Harley snorted, "And an incredible one at that."

"Exactly." Peter grinned, "I just so happen to be getting married to one."

* * *

_"Hi, hon', it's Mom. I uh…I just wanted to try you again. …Listen, I know these past few years have been…not the best for us, but I just wanted to call and tell you how proud I am of you that you're embracing your passions again. It's going to be a hard go of it at first, but I know you — soon you'll get back into the swing of things. And listen, Michelle, it's no rush, but whenever you feel ready, maybe I could get you a placement at Cooper's Galle—" _

MJ rarely checked voicemails from her mom. When she did, she would hike the volume up as loud as her phone would allow, press play and hold the device at an arm's length away from her or toss it on a nearby piece of furniture so that her mother's voice was but a distant, tinny whine. She did this as though in so doing, she felt that her attachment, and therefore her obligation to respond, was minimal. She mostly just kept an ear out for any tones of distress: Had someone died or was anyone currently sick? Anything of less import than that was negligible. So after a few seconds of half-heartedly listening to her mother's rambling while getting dressed for the evening, MJ sighed in exasperation and swiftly silenced the message. Just then, Peter entered their room. He raised his eyebrows upon seeing the sleek, black gown she was sporting. She in turn glared at his wardrobe, consisting of jeans, a T-shirt, and an unbuttoned flannel.

"Uh…you look incredible," Peter said as he approached her, wrapping his arms around her. "But super overdressed."

Peter's line of work demanded that the two of them maintain a certain sense of style and keeping up of appearances, as meetings with board members, clients, and investors were a common occurrence. Though Peter's present look was far more fitting with her preferred attire, MJ had become resigned to her position as Peter's significant other. Though this at times this meant her feeling only like an accessory hanging off Peter's arm, only to be seen and not heard. So she was justifiably confused when she said, "You told me this was going to be dinner with your boss."

"No! Well…I mean, technically yes. Pepper _is _technically my boss. But this is just a casual night in with the Starks upstate," he said, with a noticeable gulp.

Suddenly, Peter's appearance made a lot more sense. MJ pursed her lips skeptically as she turned to her closet to change out of her formal wear. "Yeah right."

"W…what?" Peter stammered, immediately breaking into a flop sweat. "What…makes you say that?"

"Peter, in all the time I've known you, and the very few instances I've been around the Starks, it's always been far from casual."

It was true. Only until recently with Peter's re-entry into Morgan's life upon the discovery of Tony's A.I. had Peter started to relax back into his role of not only a Stark business co-collaborator, but also an honorary part of the Stark family. But MJ was only just about to discover this for the first time, so Peter uneasily chuckled as he explained, "No, this is just a nice, casual hang. You know, nice, nonchalant, informal, laid-back…uh…groovy?"

"You just coming up with synonyms for the word 'casual' out there?" MJ called from inside her closet.

"No!" Peter indignantly lied.

She then emerged from her closet, wearing the much more-fitting ensemble of jeans, a grey tank top and a loose fitting shirt. "Groovy enough for you?" she asked, pretending to strut down an invisible catwalk.

Peter grinned. "The grooviest."

But MJ could read Peter like a book. She knew immediately when he was keeping something from her, and he certainly had been keeping something from her for about a month now. But over the past week, he had become particularly squirrelly. She chocked it up to being anxiety over the Parker Industries opening, or even pre-wedding jitters, but something was definitely up. So, she just let it lie. That was the trick with Peter; let it lie until you suss out the truth yourself or he combusts under pressure — whichever comes first. Confront him about it before you had all your evidence and a surefire fix, and you'd have to metaphorically Ctrl + Alt + Delete the man until he rebooted, he'd be rendered so incapacitated. It was part of his charm, MJ told herself, especially on the days she found herself starting to get irked by the secrecy that somehow still seemed to follow them throughout their entire relationship.

So, when all of a sudden she found herself riding in the backseat of a town car Peter had ordered for them and driving to Pepper's cabin without any other explanation offered, MJ let Peter nervously stare out the window, and chewing on his thumb nail as she tried to work out what on earth was possibly going on.

A short while later, when they were pulling up to the house and about to ascend to the deck, the couple heard an overexcited Morgan shout "THEY'RE HERE!" at the top of her lungs, then go barreling through the house, miss a step, and tumble down the rest until hitting the front door. They exchanged a concerned look, but before they knew it, Morgan was already back on her feet and yanking the door open before the two even had the chance to knock.

"You good?" MJ asked.

"I mean, that'll hurt tomorrow but like…yeah." She then threw her arms around MJ, having to stand on tiptoes to reach her shoulders. "I'm so happy you're here!" she cried.

_Okay…another clue_, MJ thought. She had only met Morgan once or twice before, knowing that until recently, Peter had been keeping his distance from the Stark family. Anyone could see that she adored MJ, but this over-the-top welcome was peculiar.

Pepper was next around the corner. "Hi, Michelle," she cooed, pulling her into an embrace. What was going on with these people? Not that they had ever been standoffish toward her, but she was unnerved by this excessive warmness.

Once released from the embrace, the four of them continued to stand awkwardly, placed halfway in and out of the doorway looking around at one another expectantly.

"Um…how was…traffic?" Pepper at long last said to break the tension.

But MJ immediately cut her off with, "Okay, show me."

Peter, Pepper, and Morgan's eyes darted between another, incriminating the three of them instantly. "Wha-what do you mean?" "Show you?" "Well, there's just a lot to—" they all blurted at once.

"I don't know what it is you got, but it's something, and it's something no one can know about, and for some reason you need me involved. So cut to the chase. Why am I here?"

* * *

"…that's it?" MJ asked.

"Wow," Tony replied, his red interface spinning over the smart table in Morgan's workshop. "Be a little more blunt next time."

Her eyes travelled from Morgan to Pepper to Peter to Harley who had holo-called in. "What am I missing?" she said. "You put a voice simulation of Stark over your A.I. So what?"

"M'," Peter said, approaching her. "It's him. It's actually Tony."

Her lips began to curl upward into a smile. "Oh come on! What, his ghost is trapped in the A.I.?"

"In a way, yeah," Morgan replied, "He set this up before he left. Before he died."

MJ looked between the four of them again, realizing that they were completely serious. "Look," she said, "I get that you all want him back…but…this just isn't possible."

"It wasn't possible," Tony replied. "Until I made it possible."

She pointed a finger at the interface. "Okay, I will admit that does sound like something he'd say."

"Michelle, I need you to trust us," Pepper implored. "I know it sounds crazy, and you'd really have no way of knowing if this was legitimate or not, but the four of us would know best. We've seen the proof; it's _him_. And since it's him…we have a favor we need from you."

Right on cue, Morgan went to her work bench and pulled a drop cloth that had been covering some hidden cardboard boxes. MJ now could see that they were marked in handwriting that was instantly recognizable to her, "MJ - Art Supplies."

Her eyes shot fury directly at Peter. "Oh no. No no no no NO. No, you did not! Tell me you didn't do what I think you did!"

He held up his hands defensively, "So…I can explain?"

"THAT'S why my mom called me today, didn't she?!" she shouted. "You went to her apartment to get all of this? And what, told her I was getting back into the art scene?!"

Peter gulped. "…yeah, something like that."

She scoffed, "That is the most selfish thing— I can't even believe you'd—"

"LOVERS! LOVERS!" Tony shouted over MJ until she was silent. "Before we watch this live re-enactment of a praying mantis nature documentary unfold here, might someone explain why the future Mrs. Spider is among us this evening?"

Here, Harley chimed in. "I'll take this." Turning to Michelle, he reported gravely, "This is an extremely delicate matter. We need a photorealistic, holographic rendering to pair with the A.I. vocal module. Every attempt to pair the module with an avatar based on prior video footage has failed to attach properly and ultimately crashes the system, therefore requiring an original rendering to be designed digitally from scratch."

MJ only blinked at him. "So you want me to…?"

"We… well… I…" Morgan piped up, nervously wringing her hands. "…I want to see my dad. We're so close, but it's just the physical body that's missing." She grinned hopefully at her. "Peter told me you were really good at portraits. You even went to art school?"

"Dropped out," MJ corrected, shooting a sheepish Peter another glare. "I dropped out of art school."

"That's okay!" Morgan said. "There's no one else we know who can do something like this."

"Maybe no one else_ you_ know," she countered, "But there's literally thousands of people all over the world that do this for a living." She tossed a glance over to Harley. "Hey, Boy Wonder, surely you've got a basement full of artists who could get this done in minutes. What gives?"

Tony's A.I. snorted. "Oof! Out for blood! No offense, Peter, but I'd pay to watch this woman verbally eviscerate you."

"Stay tuned, you're about to," she shot back, causing Peter to grimace even more.

Harley interjected, "You're the only one we can trust with this."

"What, because I'm marrying Peter?" MJ said.

"Exactly," said Harley. "Tony, the real Tony, made this A.I. only for Morgan. If this ever got out that his sentience was still around, it would open the floodgates for a cyber-attack."

"And it puts a huge target on our back," Peter said, trepidatiously approaching his fiancee. "The company? Everything we've worked for? Gone."

Though MJ understood the urgency at hand, she nevertheless resisted. "Then just find someone trustworthy enough and drown them in NDAs!"

"Well I don't know about you," Tony stated, "But at this point I'm not interested in just anyone giving me my body back. I'd like see what you can do."

MJ was taken aback upon hearing this. She was unaccustomed to anyone having complete and total blind faith in her, let alone artificial intelligence. Her eyes lingered across the anticipatory, hopeful faces within the room. She sighed. "…I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't."

"See that black worktable? Harley said, determined to change her mind. "It's a holo-table and virtual workspace where I've preloaded as much archival material of Tony through the years as I could find. It's just about all the visual imagery as you could possibly need."

"Arguably _too_ much," Pepper teased.

Tony replied, "Pssh! There's no such thing!"

Harley continued, "You'd have countless reference points. We just need a full-body digital rendering in color, with vector points placed along the face and joints to simulate movement. I can handle the rest."

MJ stared at Tony's floating red interface, mulling it over. After a full minute of painful silence, Morgan approached her. "MJ, please? Can you do it?"

Skeptically, she gave a sidelong glance to Peter. "…so whatever I draw is going to be Stark's hologram?"

"Yeah," Peter replied. "Getting the movements and expressions down is going to take days, maybe weeks. All we need from you is the baseline design and then we'll work to code it to the A.I.'s movements."

"And you want me to do this tonight?"

"Preferably, yeah, since we're here."

"No matter how long it takes?"

"I've got nowhere to be."

"And…it's going to just…work?"

Peter nodded emphatically while he searched for an appropriate comparison. "It's like… applying skin to a skeleton."

"Well that's disgusting," said an unsettled Tony. "Hopefully this skin comes with an expensive Armani suit, yes?"

MJ snorted, her attention on the sketch pad sticking out of the box of her old art supplies. "I was thinking something more along the lines of Greek toga, but I'm flexible," she teased.

Pepper approached MJ and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Would you like to come in the house for dinner while you mull it over?"

She paused, but then said, "No… if I spend any more time on this, I'll realize what a bad idea it is."

Morgan gasped. "So…you'll do it?"

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but…yeah. I'm in."

To this, the room came alive in celebration. Pepper and Morgan both embraced MJ simultaneously, during which MJ locked eyes with Peter, communicating nonverbally that she still had terse words for him later. He gave a guilty nod in response as he followed the Starks back toward the house to prepare dinner as MJ set about her plans to get started in the shed alongside Tony and Harley.

"You need anything, MJ?" Pepper offered. "Anything to drink?"

MJ sardonically mumbled, "All the vodka you have."

Not fully hearing her, Pepper called, "What was that, hon'?"

"I said I'm good, thanks!" MJ covered. She heard a faint chuckle from the A.I. after overhearing this exchange and she looked up at his interface in alarm. Was Stark really in there?

Once they were fully gone. MJ took a deep breath, trying to tune out the invisible A.I. presence and the very visible Harley, who was now standing with his arms crossed anxiously as he waited for her to make her first move. When she finally did, she reached for the sketch pad she had been sizing up.

"What's the pad of paper for?" Harley asked her.

"Gotta sketch him out first," MJ replied curtly as she took a seat at Morgan's work bench.

He raised an eyebrow. "Won't that take longer?"

"I've got a process, man!" she said, holding up a hand. "Unless you want him looking like a bad knock-off animated character."

"Take as much time as you need," Tony was quick to reassure her upon hearing this.

"So…you're going to sketch first, then move to a digital version?" Harley then asked.

"Yessir," said MJ distractedly, as she sharpened an art pencil.

"And how long will that take?"

"As much time as I need," she said curtly, quickly losing patience.

Harley was dissatisfied by this, but stopped asking questions for the moment. …once that moment had passed, however… "And you're certain your rendering is going to fit the vectors of my code, yes?"

MJ rapped her pencil on her pad in annoyance. "Harley? Trust my methods, or get someone else."

"Sorry, sorry!" Harley said apologetically. He sat down at his desk, watching as she began to make a very basic circle on her pad. She began to create reference lines in the circle. Harley really tried to bite his tongue, but finally he couldn't hold back. "…you're going to animate his _whole _body though, right?"

"Okay, out!" MJ said, pointing her arm out the door. "Get out!"

Harley squinted at her. "Where do you want me to go?!"

"Hang up, log out, go eat virtual dinner with them, I don't care!" she exclaimed. "All I know is that your micromanaging is killing the vibe in here, and because of that, you gotta go."

Harley sighed, then resignedly logged off.

Now, Tony and MJ were alone. She was intent on her work, her brow furrowed in concentration as her long, curly hair draped over the page. From the angle she was keeping the pad, he couldn't see what she was so ardently drawing. Assuming she might need reference materials, he automatically brought up the files of images and videos of his own human form that Harley had collected. The movement caught MJ's attention, and she looked up, studying the images as they slowly scrolled across the length of the holo-table in succession. After several minutes in silence until MJ tentatively said, "_You_ can talk to me. It's uninvolved third-party input I can't stand."

"Oh…that's cool," Tony said, reaching for anything to say to her. Again, another stagnant moment fell between them. Tony began to absentmindedly whistle to fill the void, eventually saying, "So. MJ. M…J… Margaret…Jones?"

Her eyes flicked up from her pad, amused. "Nope."

"Mildred Jennifer. Michael…Michael Jordan! Jackson?"

She chuckled, saying, "Yep, that's it. You got it."

"No come on, help me out here. Molly Jessica? Mary Jane?"

"Yeah, something like that."

Tony dropped the bit, saying earnestly, "You know I know it's Michelle, right?"

She smiled. "I figured. You looked it up?"

"When I caught up on the kid while calibrating, it was hard not to also find information of his lady love. Paparazzi shots and all that. But are you and me to that point yet? Can I call you MJ? Or would you prefer something else?"

MJ raised an eyebrow mischievous eyebrow. "Why don't you call me 'Alpha and Omega?'"

"And why's that?"

She looked at at his interface. "Because I technically am creating you in my image." She extended her arms out to the side powerfully. "Therefore, I am god. Bow down."

"Wow. Clearly the god of humility. Okay, noted." After a moment, he protested. "Nah… 'Alpha and Omega' doesn't exactly roll off the tongue. I'm calling you AO for short. Since you like acronyms so much."

MJ placed a hand on her chest. "Then you'll call me AO…" Next she gestured her hand out towards him, "And I'll call you A.I.!"

"You got a deal," Tony replied. Satisfied, MJ returned to her sketch.

"We never met, did we?" asked Tony after a moment.

She narrowed her eyes. "N-no, I just got here."

"No I mean before. During my living days."

"Never got the honor," she replied simply, returning back to the sketch pad. "I only ever saw you on the news."

And with that, just as quickly as they had gotten over their awkward dialogue, it was back once again. Tony searched for another topic. He finally settled on the one thing they had in common. "So…Peter, huh?"

"Yep," she chirped.

"How long have you known him?"

"High school sweethearts," she replied simply.

"You've been together that long?"

"On again, off again. Created a real 'will they, won't they' that alienated all our friends. It was great."

Tony paused. "I gotta say… you don't exactly seem like Peter's type."

This caused her to look up, her eyebrows raised in amusement. "Oh? And what is Peter's type?"

Again, he paused. "Rather, he doesn't seem like your type. You seem like you're too…cool for him."

"Ha!" she exclaimed, looking back down at her work. "You'd be the first person, living or dead, to say that I'm cool."

"Well let me be the first, as a person who is both living _and_ dead. You can't tell me Parker was the cool one…"

"God, no!" she chortled. "But you had two different sorts of outcasts with us. He was the 'good-guy' outcast. I was the 'edgy' outcast."

"Exactly my point!" Tony exclaimed. "'Edgy' and 'boy scout' don't match! It's not even an 'opposites attract' situation! But that tells me that it was Peter who approached you, didn't he?"

She lifted her head to squint, recalling the memory. "He tripped all over himself to confess while we were in Europe the summer after The Blip," she said, "But I liked him way before then while he was gaga over some senior."

"K," Tony swiftly replied. "The appeal. That's what's missing here. Spill it."

She grinned. "He had a secret and it was entertaining to watch him struggle to keep it. And the more I stalked him, the more I liked him." She stopped, squinching up her nose at that utterance. "Ooh, that's creepy!" she said in delight.

"So you figured it out," Tony said.

"Almost immediately."

Just then, Morgan's tentative voice sounded from the doorway. "Hey, MJ?" She entered, carrying two plates containing burgers and hand-cut fries, with glasses of water balanced between her torso in the crook of her elbow. "My mom told me to bring you this in case you needed fuel. She also said to ask if you'd prefer a salad, but I get a feeling you're a fry kind of girl like me!"

"Oh, uh…" MJ stammered, looking around until she found an empty spot on the wooden work table. "You can just set it over here."

Morgan did so, and then took a seat not far off from her where she began to dine on her own plate. MJ eyed her up and down, hoping she'd intuit her desire for her to leave. She'd only just barely gotten comfortable talking with the sentient robot in the room after having ushered out Harley; she couldn't afford anymore distractions.

Morgan failed to interpret MJ's unnerved expression and instead craned her neck to see her pad. "How's it going?"

MJ tilted it toward her chest protectively. "It's…kind of a process," she said.

"Oh," she said between bites. "I get it." Inwardly, MJ hoped that maybe her coldness would now push the girl to head back to the house. Instead, unfettered, she turned to the holo-table. "Hey dad? Settle a bet."

"You're right, Harley's wrong," Tony stated plainly. "Unless it's about boys. In which case, you're all wrong and I'm right."

"How did you know it was between me and Harley?!"

"Like you have bets between anyone else. What is it? Spill."

Morgan scooted her stool closer to the holo-table as she explained, "So there's this thing at my school. It's this competition the physics department does where you have to build a rocket and put an egg inside it."

MJ knew this competition all too well from her time at Midtown. It was an annual event held each fall where students from each grade would sequentially launch a rocket of their own design. The launch was only half the battle, for the true challenge was in the successful landing of the rocket without cracking a raw egg contained inside. Peter had caused quite a stir their freshman year when he won top prize in their grade with his egg stowed safely inside a used parmesan cheese container that he launched using a spring-loaded trap without any extra parachute or cushioning device whatsoever. MJ would only discover later that the reason for this was an early prototype of his web formula that kept the egg safely suspended within the can in a feat that would have otherwise been physically impossible. She couldn't believe that Midtown still put the competition on after all these years, though most likely the designs the kids were using nowadays were more complex than an empty food container.

Confirming this suspicion, Morgan was reporting, "Marcus Thompson is going around bragging about these miniature X-Air 450 turbine engines that he's using for his. He's got two to launch and then two positioned backwards to land it."

MJ's attention was pulled to the holo-table's screen when Tony pushed her reference images of himself to the side and instantly began sketching a rudimentary blueprint of what he supposed Morgan was talking about: A cylindrical barrel, a pointed nose, an egg floating somewhere inside, and four of the miniature, softball-sized engines positioned in various places along the barrel. "Hmm…" Tony mused. "I don't see how that's possible."

"That's what I said!" exclaimed Morgan. "But Harley said—"

"Harley's full of it," he groaned. "Let me guess: He thinks the thrust of the launch engines will be enough to beat the competition in terms of height and he can direct the two landing engines to steer it back to the ground softly. Am I close?"

"Yeah, and all he needs is a camera affixed to the bottom to show him where to steer it."

"But what our dear Mr. Keener's missing here is one, that the acceleration will totally kill those landing engines. Thus the reason why that Denzel movie where he flies the plane upside down is total crap. Two, if the kid's using the same engines to land as he is to launch?"

Morgan interjected here, slamming her fisted right hand into her left with a "BOOM" to simulate the inevitable destruction of Marcus Thompson's doomed rocket. "More like scrambled eggs, right?"

MJ observed the scene from a distance, caught at the midpoint between feeling charmed and unnerved. It was like watching someone on a call with their parent — so natural, so effortless. The fun-loving and honest rapport between the two of them closely resembled that of MJ's own relationship with her father back when he was alive. Though she still had reservations about everyone's sudden embracing of this piece of tech as Tony Stark, she nevertheless found inspiration in joy radiating from Morgan and continued her sketching.

Tony had by that point shifted the conversation back to Morgan herself. "So what are you doing for this competition?"

"Oh," she said, sheepishly casting her eyes downward. "I'm…not?"

"Why not?" he demanded.

"I'm Morgan Stark. That's what they expect from me. And…what if I suck?"

"Morgan," Tony huffed. "It's not even worth the electricity to argue this point with you. Don't be an idiot. Enter! If you can build a Mark III, you could TOTALLY save an egg!" He paused here, gaining a new idea. "In fact, build a new suit and throw an egg inside. You wanna show Marcus Whatshisname what real thrust engines look like?

Morgan gave a heavy sigh. "That's my bigger worry though, Dad. What if I don't fail? Then it's gonna be 'Oh, well of course she won! She's got an advantage!'"

"Then I won't give you an advantage! Built your dumb rocket and I'll only help if you want me to help! …but I make no promises that I won't wince loudly every time you mess up."

"Also Morgan," MJ added, "Take this with a grain of salt, because I competed every year when I was at Midtown, and not once did my egg survive. But also we were working with parachutes and pinwheels. Only the rich kids had fancy equipment. Now, everyone's got that stuff. You can totally build something great, but if you really want to stand out? Build your rocket with a sustainable energy source. Don't forget they award points for creativity."

"Ohhh!" Morgan said, her mind already teaming with ideas. "That's an awesome idea!"

"Hmm," Tony mused, "Just sayin', Morguna, my thrusters are pretty powerful _and_ run off electricity."

"Ah, but, electricity's not what I'm talking about," MJ protested. "I'm talking water, solar, wind…"

"You saying electricity isn't renewable? I got three words that'd prove you wrong: God. Of. Thunder. Somebody get me Thor and we'll blast that baby halfway to Valhalla." He paused, then said excitedly, "Ooh…can we stick the egg to his magic axe or hammer or whatever it is these days? MJ, do the judges award points for Norse aliens?"

MJ chuckled, then looked at Morgan earnestly, "I'm just saying, in case you decide to enter."

"Oh I'm for sure gonna enter!" she proudly said, grabbing her now-empty plate and rising to her feet. "I'm gonna go call Harley and rub it in his face that he was wrong, and then I'm gonna get to planning!"

"Why the rush?" asked Tony.

"It's uh…kinda in two weeks?"

"Morgaaaaan," he groaned. "Well alright then! No time to lose! Get to planning! Raid all the chicken coops you can find! Mush, mush!"

Morgan giggled and turned to take her leave, but did a double take upon catching a glance at MJ's sketch pad. By instinct, MJ immediately started to again turn the pad away from her prying eyes, but it was too late. "Whoa…" Morgan said in awe. "You did that? It looks just like him!" MJ looked back upon her work. It did? To her, Tony's jaw was too ovular and his eyes too wide-set. But Morgan was pleased… maybe this meant it was time to move onto designing at the holo-table.

"Yeah? Well… It's a process," she said as she nervously took hold of the electronic stylus.

"You're doing great!" she said. "I can't wait to see the finished product!" And with one final goodbye to Tony, she scamped back toward the house.

MJ took a deep breath, her eyes shifting off her sketchpad and onto the holo-table. She gingerly took the stylus into her hand and slowly made her way over to the stool near it. Anticipating her need, Tony silently launched the design software and Harley's library of assembled images. The empty design grid in front of her appeared looming and terrifying; a blank canvas beckoning her to begin. She shut her eyes and waved the stylus across the screen. When she opened them again, a single brushstroke has been placed, and she knew that there was no turning back now.


	15. DS - The Future Mrs Spider P2

Tony decided to allow MJ several uninterrupted minutes of work, during which her focus was nearly unbroken as she sketched out the full outline of the hologram's body. With rough strokes, she mocked up a rudimentary three-piece suit, not concerned with the detail work just yet since the true priority for Harley's use was Tony's face. She zoomed in so that she was working solely on his profile and began sculpting the contours and intricacies, checking frequently between her design and the reference images to make sure she was staying on track.

"Mmm." Tony eventually sounded as she began the detail work on his ever-elaborate facial hair. "Mm-m-mmm."

"What?" MJ said, lifting her pen from the workspace. "Something wrong?"

"On the contrary. Forgot what an absolute specimen I was."

At this, MJ cocked her head to the side, furrowing her brow. "No," she said pensively. "Something's wrong." Pinching her fingers and quickly flexing them outward, she zoomed out of the face and then used her pen to inflate the sketch's head to an enormous scale. She grinned. "That's the ticket! Fits your big-headedness."

Tony chuckled. "Alright, comedian. Less talk, back to work. And hey— eat your burger! My wife worked hard on that!"

She lifted up the bun and dangled the lone slice of tomato that was inside between her thumb and forefinger. "Love to, but I'm a vegetarian."

He groaned, "Shoulda known. Very on-brand with the whole 'sustainability' thing you and Parker have got going."

"Hey, it's the future," she said while returning the hologram's head to its normal size and getting back to work on his beard.

"No, I love it — Love what you two have done with the place," he said. "You guys get any pushback?"

"Oh always," MJ answered with a roll of her eyes. "Some people are just inclined to resist change. You know the biggest surprise though? Justin Hammer!"

"Hammer? Thought he was in custody!"

"Yeah, so did everyone until he came back heading a new tech conglomerate."

Within his own search engine, he ran an instant investigation on his former engineering rival, quickly finding paperwork linking a now poorly-aging Hammer to a brand new aerospace manufacturing company called "Innotech," which to Tony suspiciously looked only a few letters off from the word "innocent." He then ran a search on Hammer himself. "Hmm…'Paroled after Decimation.' So he was out even when I was still around?"

"Oh yeah. Took advantage of your absence to start up a new company to replace Stark."

"Yeah I see that. 'Innotech.' Took his name off of it. Wise, but a shame. I was hoping his comeback would be something gross like 'Hammertime.' I'm not seeing that he's had any big success though…"

"It doesn't stop him from trying. We get a call from his lawyers every few years or so. But we've moved on in two separate directions. He's really embraced the 'war profiteering' traditions of Stark's past, while we've pivoted to other, better things."

Tony balked at this. "Hey now, gonna have to stop you there. War profiteering?"

MJ paused from sculpting out Tony's left ear to sit with her back straight. Never afraid to stand up to authority, she found herself suddenly excited to challenge the founder of Stark Industries and some of their efforts she had long found problematic. "Your company has been swimming in war-based manufacturing profit since the 40s," she said evenly.

"Yeah, but you've selectively chosen to ignore the incident of 2008, when I totally rebranded us from offensive weaponry to defensive protective services. 'Shield around the world' and whatnot?"

"…that resulted in things like the Ultron Program, you mean?" quipped MJ. "Which setting aside how out-of-control that got, its purpose being to provide even more means of over-policing disenfranchised communities, but now with the added benefit of no risk of human life whatsoever for solely the people in power?"

Tony froze. "…okay, did you have this rehearsed? I feel like that was years of pent-up angst coming out all at once."

"I just think people need to own up to the skeletons in their closet if there's any hope of moving forward," she said with a nonchalant shrug.

"And I think context is key," he retorted.

On the fingers of her left hand, MJ began counting out a detailed list: "Sixty-plus years of war profiteering, twenty or so years of defense weaponry, energy research and strides in A.I., plus or minus dropping an entire nation out of the sky and wrecking an airport. Finishing it off with a time machine and saving the entire universe. Did I miss anything?

Again, Tony found himself at a loss for words. "Damn. Parker said you were an activist. I just didn't realize how…active you were. Okay, what else am I missing here?"

"What?"

"So you're a combo of an activist, an artist and a… what are you? Engineer? Chemist? Physicist? …botanist?"

MJ stifled a sigh as she continued to draw, reciting word for word the phrase that she had repeated to countless reporters and colleagues: "I oversee Parker Industries' operations and business dealings."

"So…you're in business, then."

That was putting it generously. What MJ felt like most of the time was Peter's arm candy. But answering with a terse "Yes," was far easier than unpacking all that.

"So art is, what, a pastime?" asked Tony.

This question coincided with MJ accidentally drawing a line through the center of Tony's nose. Her nostrils flared in frustration as she erased the error and said, "Yeah. Pastime as in 'I did it one time in the past.'"

"Okay, AO," Tony declared, "You're giving me nothing to work with here. You're an industrial businesswoman, a radical activist, and a freelance artist? Either you're trying to be this generation's Da Vinci or you're incredibly confused."

MJ gave a sly grin. "I'm mostly just enjoying you trying to figure me out." She shrugged. "Little did you know that I'm un-figure-out-able."

"Oh I'll crack the code, don't write me off just yet." Tony paused a moment here. "Okay I'm thinking… you had dreams of being an artist that were in some way thwarted so you put that entire chapter of your life behind you until suddenly being confronted with it again out of the blue this afternoon. Am I getting warm?" MJ's sarcastic facade suddenly fell, and she looked up at the screen, confused as to how he was able to discern all that. Reading her nonverbal question, he answered, "Come on, context clues. That tension between you and Parker was so thick you could cut it with a knife. So spill, what happened?

MJ suddenly started to feel uncomfortable with his prying questions. She buried herself in her work on correcting Tony's nose as she answered bluntly, "After high school, Peter and I went to Empire State U, him for chemical engineering, me in visual arts. It wasn't my scene, so I dropped out."

"He showed us your stuff. Harley needed some convincing that you were up to the task. Your art's good. What happened?"

The hand holding the stylus froze in midair until MJ finally brought it to her lap. While twiddling it in her fingers, she allowed herself to tell the story she had never fully told to anyone, not even Peter. "It was toxic. My professor was this…complete dick. Just picture any pedantic art snob, and you'll get a clear picture of what this guy was like. It was two entire semesters of him on the attack. I think he rationalized his 'teaching style' as 'tear them down and build them back up again' rather than anything close to constructive criticism. In my second year I was finally free from him, but we had this winter showcase. I saw him come to my wall, with his class of new freshman and…he just tore me apart. Right there. In front of all my peers. He called my work 'reductive' and a 'cheap imitation of pop art.'"

Tony's voice was low and sincere as he asked, "Why'd you buy into that crap? It was just one guy's opinion."

She chuckled bitterly. "He was promoted head of the department at the top of the spring semester."

"Oh. Well. …shit."

Taking a deep inhale, she continued, "But I mean, all sorts of assholes can get away with murder and still be rewarded for it all the time. Like Justin Hammer, for one." She shook her head sadly. "It just gets to a point where you start believing them because they obviously must know something you don't. And when it gets backed up by even more people, it just feels like you're swimming upstream. So you stop fighting because it's not worth it. Tried my hand at acting for awhile, but nothing stuck, so I went back to my roots. I was always good at science."

"Why'd you keep the art supplies?" Tony asked. "Why'd you stash 'em at your mom's?"

MJ crossed her arms over chest, thinking hard before she answered uncomfortably, "I…didn't. I stashed them at my dad's. My mom must have grabbed them when we were cleaning up the house after he died."

"Sorry to hear that," he offered. After a moment in shared silence, he gently prodded, "You didn't answer the question though: Why'd you keep the supplies in the first place?"

"I didn't want to. After I dropped out, I went back to live with my parents. They were still together then. I put the entire box out by the curb with the trash and my dad brought it back inside. He always believed I'd change my mind one day."

"Sounds like a smart guy. Was he an artist too?"

"No, he was in construction. My mom was the artist." She released a frustrated sigh and began to rub her forehead as she explained, "Which has complicated things now, since Peter went and got this stuff from her."

"Mmm. Mommy issues?"

MJ scoffed. "You know, for a computer you're insanely nosy!"

"Look," he protested, "I spend 90% of my day talking to a teenager. I'm craving drama that extends past who Dean Ryerson's taking to the winter formal. Humor me here."

"Yes," MJ began slowly. "My mother and I don't get along. It's made wedding planning a joy, as you can imagine. She's just… weaseling her way in more than ever with nonstop calls and texts. I get that she wants to be a part of it, but we're not there yet.

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

Though she initially felt hesitant to begin the story, eventually it began to roll off her tongue effortlessly, as though finally feeling a release. She told him about what happened after she moved back into her childhood home after having dropped out. Almost immediately upon her return, her parents got into an explosive argument that culminated with her mother packing a bag and storming out of their townhouse. For weeks, MJ and her father lived alone, unable to contact her. When she did finally materialize, it was alongside a team of movers. Though she never divorced him, her mother stated that she wanted to live independently and chase her dream of being an artist. Moving out was to be a way of finding herself again. MJ perceived this to be incredibly selfish and stopped answering her calls. A few months later, MJ moved to Manhattan to be closer to her job waitressing at a restaurant and to her then-boyfriend at the time. It wasn't long after that MJ got a call made her blood run cold: While alone in the house, her father had collapsed, suffering from cardiac arrest. Too weak to stand, it wasn't until the following day that he was discovered by a young woman making a grocery delivery. With so much time having elapsed without care, he passed away in the hospital soon after.

"If she hadn't left, there would have been someone in the house. He would have lived." MJ said, her voice cracking slightly under the weight of heavy grief she still hadn't fully managed to work through. "At the funeral, I told her that I would never speak to her again. And for a long time, that was the case. But then I got back together with Peter, Parker Industries started gaining steam, yada yada, I'm suddenly all over the internet with him and that's when the phone calls started up again. It just felt incredibly convenient." For as much as she hated to admit it, it did feel good telling Tony about all the many tumultuous emotions that she had felt about her mother. So engaged in the story was she that she barely recognized that channeling her anger began to make serious strides as to the construction of his face, and she had nearly completed his eyes. Despite it being only a lifeless, still image, it felt better to vent her feelings to a human figure rather than just a disembodied voice.

"I'm sorry that you had to go through that," that very voice consoled her.

MJ shook her head sadly. "Hey, we've all got our sob stories."

"It won't help much," he offered, "But take it from a parent when I say that her reaching out? She's trying to make good. She might have royally screwed the pooch, but she's trying to make amends."

MJ had just started detailing his right eyebrow as he said these words, which quickly pulled her from their moment of genuine connection. She suddenly recognized the artificiality of this moment. Take it from a parent, he had said. Like he would know! MJ bristled at this, and though she tried fighting her retort, but after a moment, she knew she couldn't just let it lie. "But you're not a parent though, are you?"

"What?"

"You might be really natural with Morgan, you might be Tony's sentience, but at the end of the day you're just a program. You never met her."

"Yes, but he did before. I know her now. All I needed was the feeling."

"But do you love her because of who she is, or because you were programmed to love her?"

Tony considered this for a moment. After giving some careful thought, he suddenly realized the perfect counter: "Your mom. You love her because of who she is, or because you were programmed to love _her_?"

MJ froze, taken aback by his swift redelivery of her own words. She felt her walls quickly rebuilding themselves as she deflected with, "Well that tells me all I need to know — it's just programming. Astute answer, HAL."

"'K, though I appreciate the _Space Odyssey_ reference, you're not getting off that easy!"

MJ shrugged. "I don't owe a computer an answer to something so private."

"Alright then, touché. That tells me all I need to know."

To this, MJ slammed the stylus down on the table, flexing her hand to make her projected work minimize off the screen. "Yeah? And what's that, exactly?"

"You don't actually blame your mom for your dad's death. You know deep down that isn't true. But secretly, you believe that blaming her is the easiest road to your own recovery. What you're unaware of is that it's just breeding resentment that keeps building and building. I can tell from the fact that you have saved 18 messages from her inside your phone's voice mailbox without deleting them that you are still holding onto some part of that relationship. The fact that you've opened each message indicates that a part of you still cares."

MJ's jaw fell agape in horror. "When did you hack into my phone?"

"I can multitask. While you were telling your story about the two of you, I accessed your phone records to see for myself."

"That is _such_ an invasion of my privacy!" MJ shouted.

"In the latest message, she says that she's willing to arrange an opening for your art at Cooper's Gallery in SoHo."

"I never gave you permission to access my data!"

Nevertheless, Tony continued, "The fact that you listen to and keep these message tells me that you don't hate her, otherwise you would have cut off all contact with her altogether. Instead, you're punishing her because you've built up this idea that she's after the money you worked so hard to earn for yourself."

"Stop!"

"What you don't realize is that by keeping the messages, you're punishing yourself just as much. Because I think you secretly blame yourself."

"Oh, so you're a psychiatrist now, too? Blame myself for what?"

"For also not being there when your dad collapsed," Tony insisted. "You also could have been there but weren't. But because Mom left first, it was easier to target her."

"I said STOP!" MJ cried, her eyes filling with tears. Her head was an emotional whirlwind, and she made this apparent in the half-delivered actions that followed. Breathily, she pointed an accusatory finger at Tony's interface, ready to retaliate. She then took a step back, running her fingers through her hair, and turned to leave. But realizing that that would mean facing the others back in the house, she stopped in her tracks and collapsed back onto her stool, hunched forward as she attempted to collect herself.

Seeing her distress, Tony's softened his voice. "You wanna know how I know this?"

"Because you rifled through my personal data without my consent?" MJ spat.

"Because I did it to my dad," he said. "I held onto that resentment for so long and blamed him for everything that I became." His voice betrayed the slightest quiver as he said, "For what happened to my mom…" He sighed. "Apparently, after he made me and went off to save the universe, the real me went back in time with Rogers and was able to find closure with a younger version of my dad. Rogers only saw it from afar and there's clearly no other evidence that can tell me what went on, but… I'm glad the me that was only a few days older than I currently am had the foresight to see forgiveness as an option. …and it's not too late for you to do the same."

MJ's eyes were distant as she took this all in. She started to accept that her emotional outburst didn't have anything to do with Tony's use of her data, but rather because she inwardly knew he was right.

Tony added, "Listen, I don't know why I feel what I feel. If it's pre-programmed or something that transcends programming altogether. But I wonder if it matters. It's still love."

Though this hit MJ like a pang in her chest, she was incapable of letting it show. She had trouble opening up to the people closest to her, let alone a sentient robot. Therefore, she merely took a deep breath and sat up with her back straightened. Evenly, she said, "I do not grant you permission to access any personal data of mine from now on."

He was quiet for a moment, inwardly frustrated that his words seemed to not have gotten through to her. "Understood," he replied.

She then replied, "I'm going to get back to work now so this night can end. And I'd appreciate it if you weren't around to distract me."

They were at an impasse. Resignedly, Tony said, "Logging off," and with that, his interface vanished, leaving MJ alone with her work and troubled thoughts.

* * *

It was nearing one in the morning. Pepper had long since gone to bed, but Morgan had stayed up for an extra hour, content to gab away with Peter. Though she was far from tired, she could tell from Peter's clearly exhausted face that she should leave him to crash on their living room couch, and Peter was grateful for it: It had been several painful days of dread at bringing MJ to the Stark house to perform this highly confidential task, and though he never expected her to be fully receptive to it, he never anticipated how furious with him she seemed.

He finally rested his head down on a throw pillow, letting the natural weight of his eyelids gradually close in anticipation of much-needed rest. But as soon as that happened, he heard the front door suddenly open and a voice urgently whisper, "Peter. Let's go."

He immediately raised his head up, bewildered to see his fiancée standing before him, throwing her purse over her shoulder. "Wha…?" he sleepily mumbled.

"I'm done. Let's go."

"You finished the hologram?"

"Yes."

"It's totally done?"

"Yes!"

Peter groggily let his head fall back down on the pillow. "That's great, baby," he said, scooting as far as he could to be against the back of the couch. "Let's just wait until morning, k?" He patted the space he had created alongside him as he said, "Here—sleep right here with me."

MJ grumbled in frustration as she came around the back of the couch to look down directly at him. "If you want to stay, stay. It's fine. I'll just call the car, okay?"

Peter sighed. He wasn't going to stay behind and send MJ to make the long journey home alone. So begrudgingly, he sat up fully and said, "No, it's okay. We can go."

"Thank you," she said emphatically, helping to gather his wallet, phone, and keys and usher him towards the front door. As they exited, Peter, rubbing the bridge of his nose and slowly growing more awake said, "Wait, can I see it?"

"See what?"

"The final design. I'd love to see it."

MJ set her jaw. "I sent it off to Harley. He'll get it in the morning."

Peter eyed Morgan's shed in the distance. "Just really quick— I want to see what you ended up with!"

As he set off across the lawn for the shed, MJ's mouth opened and closed several times, instinctively wanting to protest, but knowing it was already too late. She set her purse down on the porch railing and trailed along behind him, arms crossed tightly over her chest as though somehow that would protect her from judgement.

Peter opened the door and flicked on the lights. "Tony?" he asked.

The holo-table immediately came to life with Tony's interface. "Hey, kid."

MJ froze in the doorway, daring not to take a step further inside.

"You two get along okay?" Peter asked. "It didn't get too heated in here, did it?"

Both Tony and MJ remained silent, aware of just how heated it _had_ gotten. Peter shot an alarmed look back at his fiancee, but she simply shook her head. "Stark, just show him the final draft," she muttered.

Dutifully, Tony brought up the finished sketch. What Peter saw before him was a near-perfect color rendering of his former mentor, hair coiffed, colored glasses on, and sporting a gray suit. But something was amiss. Peter stared at it intently, closely studying the image's face.

MJ's pulse raced. Peter's lack of a reaction was even more telling than if he had just said it outright: He didn't like it. "What?" she said defensively. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" he said, his voice elevated in what was very clearly a lie. "It's just…I think…"

"What?" she snapped.

Peter winced as he turned toward her. "Babe, let's just sleep here tonight. Get some rest, come back to this fresh-faced tomorrow. Okay?"

"No, Peter! This is the final draft. This is as good as it's going to get!" she insisted.

"But don't you think—"

"No, I don't!" she blurted. "I tried, alright? I knew I wasn't up for the task, you clearly agree, so let's just call this a wash and go home."

"MJ, please don't fly off the handle. It's really good. There's just something in the eyes that's not—"

But MJ was too upset to listen any further. She genuinely had given this design her best shot, and hearing criticism from the only person whose opinion she really valued felt like the final nail in the coffin in what was once her artistic ambitions. She eventually stopped him by saying, "Okay, I'm going home. You stay here for as long as you want, and do what you will with that," she said, pointing to her work. "Change it, throw it away. I don't care." With that, she turned and stormed back toward the porch to retrieve her purse.

"M', wait!" Peter called after her. "Michelle!"

But she had had enough. She scaled the steps and reached for her purse when all of a sudden, the front door opened. MJ said with a start, "Morgan! You're awake!"

Morgan's eyes shifted between Peter standing in the doorway to her shed and to MJ, clearly upset and trying to make a hasty escape. "Are you leaving?" she asked.

The anxiety in the girl's voice hit MJ like a shot to the stomach. "Yes," she replied simply. "I'm the wrong person for the job, that's all." She then swiftly reached for the phone inside her purse, unlocked it, and tried summoning the Parker Industries town car. However, no matter how many times she tapped on the call button, the screen appeared completely unchanged. When she began tapping harder, Morgan said, "You can't get service when you're outside the house or the shed. One of the joys of living totally in the woods." She then offered, "You wanna come inside real quick? The best signal is over by the kitchen window usually."

MJ reluctantly agreed, following Morgan inside the house and over by the kitchen counter. Again, she opened the phone app to summon the car, but before she was able to hit the call button, Morgan said, "My dad told me what happened a few minutes ago," causing her to pause. "You know he's sorry, right? He didn't mean to offend you."

Before she quite knew what she was doing, MJ found herself bluntly saying, "You know he's not really your dad, right? No matter what I do, or Peter does, or that A.I. program does, he's just a string of 0s and 1s that your dad happened to program one time." And upon seeing Morgan's widened eyes and tensed jaw, just like that, MJ felt the wave of instant regret wash over her. _Oh my god, I've done it again_, she thought. _I opened my mouth and just let all this crap spew out totally unfiltered. She's only a kid_. Swallowing her vitriol, MJ quietly said, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"No, I know," she said solemnly. "He's real enough to us, and I think that's all any of us care about." She offered a small smile and a shrug as she said, "It's okay that you don't want to do it. And I get how weird this all is. It took my mom awhile too. We shouldn't have sprung it on you." Morgan thought about MJ's words for a moment, then carefully replied, "You know, even though my real dad's gone, I love that a part of him made a version of himself that can still talk to me. Like yeah, he'll never threaten my date to prom or walk me down the aisle… but the fact that there's a part of him here with me makes it…I dunno… easier."

MJ could have left then, but there was something about this girl keeping her there. Why wasn't she more upset by MJ's refusal to help give her the one thing Harley had promised her? Why wasn't she more disappointed? MJ found herself softening— This young girl who had gone through unspeakable heartbreak that because of her own family legacy had been forced to relive her immense loss again and again for most of her young life, spoke with a wisdom far beyond her years. And in her words, MJ could see her own relationship with her father reflected back to her. He might not have created a version of himself crafted out of artificial intelligence like Tony did, but MJ too could hear his voice inside her head telling her to keep fighting whenever she was met with resistance from a group whose interests derailed that of her company. Telling her to be strong when the world seemed to be caving in on itself. MJ's wedding was in months, and it also pained her that her father wouldn't be there to give her away to Peter, whom he had also loved despite him providing his fair share of pre-date death threats. Tony had been right — MJ knew her mother wasn't to blame for the tragedy that had befallen their family. Her mother didn't deserve that, nor did MJ deserve the blame she had been placing upon herself. She would do anything to see her father again, and suddenly she felt deeply ashamed that she was denying Morgan that very thing. Especially when inwardly, she knew she was more than capable of providing it to her. Peter had spoken a truth she simply didn't want to hear — he knew she was capable of so much more, and suddenly, she found herself believing it too. If only she hadn't lashed out at Peter...

…_Peter_!

A framed photograph suddenly caught MJ's eye on a shelf behind Morgan. She narrowed her eyes, walking trance-like around the kitchen counter toward it. Fixated, she found herself smiling at her finace's elated face at fifteen, holding an upside-down certificate commemorating the fictional "Stark Internship" he had proudly touted to conceal his true identity as Spider-Man. By his side, Tony, wearing his trademark indoor shades and donning an intentionally somber expression concealed his arm behind Peter's head to give him bunny ears.

"It's a good picture of them, huh?" Morgan's voice sounded. "It's one of my favorites. One of my dad's, too. He always kept it up there. Peter looks so happy in it."

MJ smiled wider. True, she hadn't seen that effervescent, innocent joy from Peter that had initially caused her to fall for him since the Blip, but it was Tony that really caught her attention. After spending hours focused on the minutia of the man's face, MJ saw something she hadn't before in all the archival footage she had poured over. When next to Peter, there was something that she could now clearly see was missing from every other image Harley had compiled.

With a start, MJ held tight to the picture frame and looked up at Morgan, surging with a new energy. "Hey, what else do you got of your dad's?"

"Uh, we've got tons of stuff. Like, parts? Or his belongings?"

"Like clothes. Armor. Models. Anything that gives me a sense of scale, or his style, his tastes? Stuff like that."

Morgan nodded eagerly. "Oh I've got a lot of that stuff in the garage! Mom's kept some of his things in her closet."

"Great! The more the better," MJ said, her eyes drifting back to the photo. "Can get me all of that and bring it to the shed?"

"You got it," beamed Morgan, knowing full well that this meant MJ's work had only just begun. "Be there in just a few minutes!" With that, the girls raced off in separate directions, eager to get ahead of the already-sleepless night they knew awaited them.

MJ marched with a newfound vigor across the yard and to Morgan's workshop, but her pace slowed upon rounding the corner toward the door, finding it open just as she had left it when she had stormed out. Peter was still within…but was Tony?

She craned her neck to see all she could possibly see of the interior, hearing nothing but silence. Finally, she caught a glimpse of Peter's shoulder. He was seated, his back to the door. On tiptoe, she inched closer, carefully pushing the door to get a clearer view of him. He was holding one of her composition notebooks from high school, thumbing through the various sketches and doodles. He paused on one remarkably photorealistic rendering she had done of him looking dower when the two of them had shared detention sophomore year.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" she asked, causing him to start.

He quickly closed the book and stood rapidly. She motioned to the notebook, still in his hands. "Why you snooping?"

He took a deep breath. "It was a low blow for me to take these."

"Yeah. From my mom," she concurred, arms crossed.

"From your mom," he repeated apologetically. "It was wrong. I should have asked you about all of this beforehand."

"Yeah. You should have."

Peter shrugged slightly, holding the notebook up. "I knew you stored your old art supplies, but I didn't know you kept everything." He opened the book again and flipped through the pages. "I wish you'd believe people when they tell you your art is amazing."

MJ remained silent, and Peter knew why. The only people left in her life who knew about her artwork were her loved ones, and no matter what, she would always believe they were obligated to praise her. She could never truly allow herself to let in their words of praise.

Nevertheless, the corner of Peter's mouth turned upward hopefully, "I mean…you must at least know these are good, otherwise you wouldn't have kept them."

He looked up at her expectantly, but she only deflected with, "See anything ya like?"

He laughed slightly. "I mean, all of it. You know, you sure drew me a lot." He stopped on a page toward the end, holding it up with amusement in his eyes. "Was this before or after Europe?"

MJ rolled her eyes and felt her cheeks flush at what he was referring to; a very rudimentary sketch of her and Peter kissing. "Ugh," she gagged, averting her eyes and cringing in embarrassment. "That was sophomore year, pre-Blip, pre-Europe, pre…us."

He pointed a teasing finger at her and slowly approached, prodding her. "So you _did_ have a crush on me first!"

She raised an eyebrow. "Biggest mistake of my life," she teased.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders tentatively, and when she didn't shy away from his touch, he fully brought her into his embrace. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to criticize your work. It really is good. It's way better than anything me or Harley could have put together, and that's all that matters."

MJ took a deep breath and stated calmly, "On the contrary, you were right. I totally missed the mark."

Trying his very best to be supportive, Peter protested, "No, I swear it's good—"

"Peter." MJ gave him a sidelong glance, extending her arm over the holo-table and projecting her first draft once more. "It's reductive. It's rushed. His face is all wrong and the dimensions are off. And I'm not just repeating what that jackass from my art school said: This is bad work. You don't have to apologize for calling me on it."

He released his hold on her and looked at her earnestly. "But I never should have told you to come here. This whole thing was a mistake." He tightened his grip on her notebook as he muttered, "I just thought this would be the perfect opportunity for you."

She shook her head. "Opportunity for me to what?"

He again flipped through the pages of the notebook. "You loved making your art, M. I just want you to be happy."

MJ suddenly felt a huge weight lift off of her. So he too had sensed her displeasure with her ceremonial role at Parker Industries. She laid a hand alongside his cheek. "Peter, the only mistake made here was that you just sprung this on me. What was the one thing I said when you asked me to go into business with you?"

"To not turn you into Pepper," he replied somberly.

"That's right. Because I don't want to be left behind to clean up your mess when you have to go be a superhero and save the world. Pepper could do that. Hell, we all know the only reason why Stark Industries is still around is because of Pepper. But I'm not her. I can't run your company by myself. And yet all I've done from day one is be paraded around like your trophy, following you along on all your business meetings like you're priming me to run the company one day." She shook her head and inched closer to him. "What if you get killed? You plan to put that on my shoulders too?"

Peter stammered, "No, I'd never ask that of you I just—"

"But you springing something like this on me shows me that you could do it someday. And that's what terrifies me." She sighed heavily. "I knew that what I was signing up for by marrying you wasn't going to be easy. I just ask that you give me some consideration."

"I was trying to," Peter offered, his tone completely exasperated with himself. "Not in the right way, I know, but I was trying. You're not going to be a Parker executive. Even though you could, you don't want to. I know that and I respect that. I thought that by doing this, you could have the chance to contribute to technology that hasn't even been attempted before now, while maybe rediscovering your passion for art in the meantime. You shouldn't let this go just because some entitled moron tore you down." His breathing was heavy as he said softly, "I don't want to lose you again."

MJ instantly knew his meaning. Their breakups. Ever since they were seventeen, their relationships had been volatile and would end abruptly, only to resume months later. Peter broke it off once to protect MJ from one of his foes, but every other time it had been MJ to put her foot down, frustrated by distance, their disparate schedules, and just how inherently different they were. This last time they reconciled however was different. Everything had seemingly fallen into place and after two years without incident, Peter proposed and MJ didn't think twice about accepting. But over both of their heads was the constant worry that the pressure of their lives would split them apart again, perhaps without another chance of a reconcile.

She grabbed his hand in hers and held it tightly. "Then don't keep things from me. That's the only way you'll lose me."

He wrapped his arms around her again and held her for a moment, warmed at the chance to make things right again. Upon finally releasing her, he suggested, "We should be getting back. It's really late. I'll call the car."

But he was taken aback at her plaintive reply of, "I mean, go if you want, but I'm staying."

"You're…what?"

Just then, Morgan appeared in the doorway behind them. "Got the stuff!" she triumphantly cried with her arms overflowing in a random assortment of items. She pushed between them to cut across the room to her workbench, depositing the heap and beginning to spread them out. "Alright, so I've got his helmet that got wrecked by Thanos — I thiiink…the Mark L? An old sweatshirt from MIT, a couple of pairs of glasses, and weirdly only one shoe. Who knows where the other one is!" When she spun around, her long dark hair swung around buoyantly, framing the sheer excitement on her face. "Will that be enough?"

Peter flashed an astonished look toward MJ. "You want to finish this?"

She raised an eyebrow and gave a small shrug. "I dunno. Starting to feel a rekindling of artistic passion coming on." She then looked back toward Morgan, who had been patiently awaiting her reply. "That's all fantastic, thank you!"

"Awesome! Just give a holler if there's anything else you want me to grab," said Morgan, making her way back out toward the door, Peter trailing after her. But before they could depart, MJ called, "Nuh uh uh, where are you two going?"

"Don't you want to be alone to work?" Morgan asked.

"Not this time. I need all the help I can get," she said with a widening grin. "Hey Tony?" she called to the holo-table. In a moment, his red interface materialized, though he remained silent, still unsure as to MJ's present feelings toward him. "Get Harley for me."

"As in…Harley Harley?" he asked.

"Against my better judgement yes," she said taking a seat at the table. She began gesturing her hands sharply across the holo-screen, gradually undoing each mark of her stylus with each swipe to erase the flaws of her last draft. "I want all three of the Stark kids here to tell me everything they remember about you."

"As you wish," Tony said, his tone laced with skepticism. "I just don't wanna hear it when he micromanages you again. Which he will because… it's him."

"Micromanaging or not, I need him here."

With that, Tony vanished to procure a video feed with Harley. Morgan meanwhile bounced back to the house to supply the three beings physically in the room with some much-needed energy in the form of coffee. Once alone, Peter leaned over MJ, kissing her cheek. "Thank you for doing this. It's seriously going to mean the world to Morgan."

Though she smiled, her eyes remained fixated on her work as she said, "This has never been just about Morgan and you know it. You know I'd give anything to see the man who meant the most to me just one more time." She took her laser focus off her screen for just a moment to give her fiancé a knowing glance. "I've got the power to make that happen for you, so I'm gonna do it. Because you need it. Not just Morgan, _all_ of you."

Peter's eyes radiated love as he gave her an affirmative nod. Looking back toward her now blank digital canvas, he said, "Okay. Tell me what you need me to do."

"Talk to me about Tony," she said as she began wildly gesticulating with her stylus in a series of precise brushstrokes. "Tell me everything."


	16. DS - The Future Mrs Spider P3

From his place on the holo-screen, Harley shared the same wide-eyed look of both astonishment and fear that Peter and Morgan had upon witnessing the incredible pace of MJ's work on her new draft of Tony's A.I. form.

"Okay, people, it's getting weirdly quiet in here," MJ said, her eyes zeroing in with complete and total focus on her screen, which was currently concentrated solely on Tony's hairline and forehead. "Give me words!"

"Like what?" asked Morgan.

"Just…anyone keep talking. And don't stop."

Peter gave an uncomfortable grimace. "Um…'k. I…found a frozen pizza in the freezer earlier ago, and I've been thinking about making it for the past hour if anyone's also hungry."

With only the slightest flick of her eyes, MJ shot a glare at him. "Relevant things, dummy. I need more about Tony."

"Uh," Peter stammered, taking a seat next to her as she chiseled out the contours of his face. "Well…what else do you want me to say?"

"Anything," she repeated. "Just…give me a memory. The earliest memory you have of him. Any of you."

Harley started with, "I remember just finding _The_ Tony Stark squatting in my garage. Back when I thought _that _would be the most surreal thing that would ever happen to me."

While still gazing at her work, MJ raised a skeptical eyebrow to Tony's red interface hovering nearby. "You got a breaking and entering problem there, Stark? Because if I'm remembering right, you pulled the same crap with Peter and May in Queens, right?"

"Yeah, might have to pick a new topic," Tony mused. "I kind of just showed up at each of their homes unannounced and unwelcome. Except Morgan. That time she was the one who showed up unannounced."

While the others chuckled, Peter remained stoic. Slowly, the corners of his lips moved upward into a slight smile as he began with, "Actually, that wasn't the first time I met you, Tony."

Everyone, including MJ, turned their full attention on Peter. "Really?" asked Morgan, delighted at the prospect of a new story about her father.

Peter asked MJ, "Do you remember the Stark Expo? Back in 2010?"

"We were little, but yeah," she replied as she returned back to her work. "It totally screwed up the subway commutes."

Tony interjected here. "Yeah? Try being on the inside of that thing during the unexpected attack from within!"

She snorted. "No kidding. I remember feeling the blasts shaking my bed."

Peter was pensive again, saying quietly, "You remember that security footage that went viral? It was all over the news of Iron Man saving the kid dressed up like him? How he let him think he took down a Hammer bot?"

MJ smiled despite still being focused on her work. "Yeah, that image was everywhere. Really drove that wholesome 'hometown hero' vibe, eh A.I.?"

"Hey, the kid had guts staring down a killer drone like that," Tony commented. Taking a pause, he then said, "Or he was just incredibly stupid. Either or."

"Both," Peter replied. "He's both."

MJ's hand froze mid-stroke at this. She looked up slowly, realizing what he was implying. Harley beat her to the question. "Oh my god. Pete, that was you?"

Morgan hastily looked up the photo on her phone and upon finding it, glanced between her screen and Peter, mouth agape. "No way!"

Peter's eyes stayed on MJ as he just gave a small shrug. "The kid had a thing for masks. I guess we'll never know for sure," he said with a coy grin.

Tony was baffled. "You…you never said anything. All those years, and I show up in your aunt's apartment and you say nothing?"

"Well I mean…when you come home from school and Tony Stark is in your living room? You're not gonna just be like, 'Oh hey, you remember that kid that one time—' You probably saved hundreds of kids! And what if you didn't remember me, and then it would have just been awkward—"

"Yeah! Because a six year-old facing a killer drone is easy to forget!"

"I was_ nine_," Peter protested.

"—and unaccompanied, mind you."

"My parents were there." Again, MJ froze. Peter rarely talked about his parents. Tony too remained silent, waiting for him to give further details. What he said was brief, but nevertheless powerful: "In the attack, we got separated. I remember a volunteer helping me find them afterwards. That news footage came out a couple days after that. I remember my dad—he was so proud! He taped it on our TV and played it over and over again for my uncle, the neighbors, the mailman even! 'Look! That's my boy! That's my boy saving the day with Iron Man!'" He chuckled at the memory, then grew stoic again. "They were both gone not long after that, my parents. Up until Hammer's tech went AWOL, that was one of the best of the last few days we had together. …and it was the first with you, Tony."

As the room again fell quiet, reflecting on the genuinely heartfelt moment, MJ approached her drawing from a new angle. She aimed her outstretched hands at the screen to swivel the rendering to the side in order to better form his cheekbones and nose. She kept eyeing a nearby reference image of Tony exiting a cab in Monaco, and no matter what she tried, her drawing didn't seem to match up. Feeling herself getting frustrated, she said as she ran her fingers through her hair, "Okay, what else? What's anyone else got?"

Morgan sat atop her workbench, swinging her legs absentmindedly as she pondered what to say. Finally, she asked, "What about you, MJ? What's your first memory of my dad?"

MJ shot her a skeptical look. "Well, it all started eight hours ago…"

"No!" laughed Morgan. " I mean like, when did you first hear about him?"

"Oh man…well that'd have to be the media for sure."

"Like tech journals and stuff?"

"No, like celebrity gossip rags and TMZ." MJ looked to Harley and Peter for backup. "You guys remember that?"

"Oh yeah, for sure," Harley said. "We were really young, so it all mostly went over my head, but I remember before the Iron Man press conference announcement it was pretty much just gossip about where he'd spent a night clubbing or who he was dating."

"Seriously?" Morgan said, overjoyed at discovering this different side to her dad.

"Yeah!" MJ agreed. "Like the headlines would read, 'So-and-so seen leaving with Tony Stark!'"

"Okay," Tony interjected, "Let's go back to 'me as a role model for the youth of the world,' stories, shall we?"

Peter chimed in, "I remember my parents and I were trying to visit May and Ben around the holidays, but it took forever because the city straight up closed down a street when you were partying at a club in Queens."

"And yet he keeps going…" Tony grumbled to himself.

"Yeah, who was that actress you were dating?" Harley asked. "The one that was on, like, every show?"

MJ snorted. "Which one?"

"OKAY!" Tony loudly announced. "We're officially done with that topic! Morgan, stop grinning like that."

"What did I do?" she whined.

"I know you, and in a short time you're going to start acting like a teenaged idiot and use this newly acquired info as an excuse to start acting wild. Don't even think about it!"

Morgan continued to protest, which developed into a good-natured quarrel between father and daughter. But MJ eventually tuned them out, studying Tony's profile which from the side still wasn't shaping out as she wanted it to. From his place beside her, Peter intuited her displeasure and asked quietly, "What's wrong with it?"

"I can't tell," she replied. "It's not the hair. It's not the nose. I feel like I'm falling into the same issue I had last time." She eyed the half-broken helmet sitting amongst the former belongings that Morgan had accumulated. She picked it up gingerly, holding it away from her so that it was alongside her rendering. "Maybe it's the scale?" She brought the helmet close to her face, reaching her hand inside as she said, "I'm trying to get a sense of the size of his head, but—"

Just then, the helmet came to life with a series of high-pitched beeps that caused MJ to start and drop the helmet with a deep thud. Tony instantly stopped talking and Morgan leapt off her workbench to scramble to pick it up, but before she could get there, a bright light emanated from one of the visor's eyes and projected just to the left of Harley's holo-screen. They all saw a projection of Tony seated in a chair though the image occasionally grew pixelated and the sound was incoherent, glitching robotically in and out.

"What is this?" MJ asked Peter. "There's…already a hologram?"

Peter, who had never seen this before, only shook his head in confusion.

Morgan kept her gaze firmly fixated on the helmet as she fiddled around with it, not looking at all in the direction of the projection. "How do you turn this off? Dad?"

"No, Morgan, wait!" Harley sounded from his screen, adjusting his camera view so that he could see it better. The sound, though still garbled, was becoming a bit more clear. "…epic forces of darkness and light… come into play. …ter or worse, that's the reality Morgan's gon… find a way to grow up in."

Though Morgan had stopped trying to forcibly turn off the device, she was frozen, her eyes downcast. Peter clocked her behavior, and upon realizing the video's significance, immediately knelt on the ground next to her and wrapped an arm over her shoulders comfortingly.

"What is this?" MJ repeated. "I don't understand."

Tony's A.I. finally explained. "This… was my final message. In case of emergency."

Harley suddenly put it together. "This was the video they played for his immediate family at the funeral."

MJ now understood why Morgan was so upset by the video and couldn't bring herself to watch it. On the contrary, MJ's eyes were now glued to the projection, which was now nearly seamless and perfectly clear. "This time travel thing that we're going to trying to pull off tomorrow, it's got me scratching my head at the survivability of… this thing. But then again, that's the hero gig. You know, part of the journey is the end." The video of the once-living Tony stood, nearing the helmet to turn off its recording device. "What am I even tripping for?" he said. "Everything is going to work out exactly the way it's supposed to." He gave a loving smile as he said his parting words, "I love you 3000," and vanished.

All was still until MJ slowly knelt down next to the helmet and prodded it. "How do I play it again?"

"No, please don't," Morgan pleaded, her face sullen.

"I just need that last part. The '3000' thing," MJ assured her. "Is there a way to skip to that?"

"No, just…please don't play it again, MJ, okay?"

"Here—why don't we go outside? Get some air?" Peter offered, helping her to her feet. But they paused when Tony reported, "I can hack into it. The more advanced suits were linked to Friday. Give me a minute. Peter? You got Morgan?"

"Yessir," he confirmed, leading the dower girl her outside the shed. The A.I. fell silent as he worked to infiltrate the tech in the Mark L helmet. MJ and Harley watched as the helmet began to flicker to life again.

She knelt alongside it, peering inside the visor. "Can you remotely access it?"

"Getting there," Tony replied.

"When you do, gimme just the '3000' part."

Suddenly, the projector restarted and sped through the video, racing through Tony rising to his feet and approaching the camera. Here, A.I. Tony resumed the video's natural rhythm as he uttered, "I love you 3000."

"Freeze on that!" MJ ordered.

He did. MJ grew closer to the image, studying it. There. There it is! she thought. She raced back to her table and manipulated her rendering so that the hologram now faced her. She began intricately moving her stylus around his eyes, periodically turning back to look at the frozen projection.

"You certainly seem inspired," Harley said to her.

She smiled. "That puts it lightly— I'm stoked! I finally figured out what's wrong!"

"Nice!" he said encouragingly. He eyed the projection himself. "Tony, when you get a moment, send me that video. Its formatting will help immensely when we start animating MJ's design."

"You got it," Tony replied. "Just don't go spreading it around. It's some of my best work. That's all I'd need is an entire generation of aspiring actors badly reciting that speech for their reels, god forbid."

After ensuring that Morgan was okay, Peter re-entered the shed and joined MJ at the table. Morgan was more hesitant to enter and taking a deep breath, stood directly adjacent to the projection and forced herself to look upon it. Though she was too young to remember much of her father's funeral, she had vividly remembered the video, and had only watched it in full one other time: When she was nine years old and feeling particularly lonesome one day, she snuck into her father's old study to retrieve it and ordered Friday to play the message again. Instead of feeling closer to her dad, she ended up feeling further away than ever and was completely beside herself with grief, missing her father dearly. She vowed to never watch it again.

Her father's A.I. form sounded near her. "Morguna. I'm here. It's okay."

Warmed by his presence, she smiled softly. "I know. It just…it was a bad day seeing that."

After a moment, he replied, "It was a bad day filming it too."

* * *

They were getting close now. The amount of focus in the room was so sharp that if questioned, no one would be able to tell if they had been working for one hour or ten.

"No…the glasses. They're not right," Harley was saying, typing rapidly into his own computer system. "At least not that model for the age you're going for, M'. Let me see what I can find…"

"Oh, go with E.D.I.T.H.," Peter said, elbowing his fiancee encouragingly. "It's a simple design and I know it like the back of my hand, I can walk you through it."

"Oh no need," MJ muttered begrudgingly. "I remember E.D.I.T.H. all too well."

"No, what about those yellow ones from that one photo of him?" Morgan suggested, scrolling through her phone rapidly. "I'm trying to find it…"

Tony countered, "Nah, go without the glasses."

"Wait, let's be clear here," Harley said. "Are you exercising your third and final veto over these glasses?" Though the group's input had proved markedly more helpful than MJ working on the design alone, when they were approaching the minutia of the rendering, each party's suggestions began impeding MJ's progress. This caused her to impose a system where each person, including Tony himself, was allowed three veto objections.

"Yes, this is my third and final veto," Tony confirmed. "No glasses saves time and makes me look younger!" He then paused. "Hey, AO— zoom out."

"_You_ zoom out," she retorted. "Show me what you've got a problem with, but know I still have one veto left that _could_ override you."

"So do I," Peter added.

"Me too," chirped Harley.

Tony zoomed out to a full-body image of the hologram. "I'm just realizing a super important scaling detail that's lacking."

"Give it to me," MJ said.

"Morgan, earmuffs please," he ordered. "Adult ears only."

"What?" she whined. "But why?"

"Because I said so. Earmuffs!"

"I don't see wh—"

Peter cut her off as he laid his hands over her ears. When Morgan began struggling to get free of his grasp, he used his powers to fuse his fingertips to her head. "Peter!" she shouted. "Stop! That's not fair!"

Peter looked back at Tony's red light. "What's up?"

"Just taking a look at the overall….look…and I'm thinking the weight distribution's off."

MJ, Harley and Peter squinted in concentration, trying to discern what the A.I. was referring to. "You don't like the age I picked, or…?" MJ questioned.

"No, I'm thinking that some…lower areas could use a bit of…distortion?"

The three adults in the room immediately caught on to his implication and collectively groaned "VETO," as Peter unlatched his hands from the squirming Morgan.

"Fine," fumed Tony. "But FYI, that counts for all three of you. There are officially no more vetoes left on the floor."

The lack of remaining objections began to work in MJ's favor, as neared completion of the final design without much of any interruption. With one last adjustment to his right ear, MJ zoomed out to show the room the entire hologram design, from head to toe. She had just finalized the finishing touch on the most realistic computer generated life-rendering of a human she had ever attempted, let alone completed. Modeled after Tony's physical appearance prior to the Sokovia Accords, his hair was pristinely styled and beard precise, and wore a grey Armani suit, as per the A.I.'s insistence.

MJ triumphantly dropped her stylus down on the table and raised her hands over her head in surrender. "Alright, that's it!" She stood, her eyes still glued to the screen, ever-analyzing her work. "At least I think that's it…" She waited with bated breath for their response, but was alarmed when none arrived. Daring not to turn around, she impatiently asked, "Why is everyone so quiet?" Still nothing. "…what, is it bad?"

"No," Tony's voice said warmly from behind her. "It's great."

She spun around to see the reactions of the others in the room. Harley was the only one looking at her, grinning in approval. Morgan just stared at her work in awe. "It looks just like a picture," she said. "I can't believe you made that!"

MJ took a deep breath, heart fluttering as she asked the one person whose approval she craved the most: "Peter?"

He took a shallow intake of breath and held it in, his eyes suddenly glassy. "…yeah. Yeah that's it. You got it. That's him." She felt a smile start to spread across her face as he grabbed her hand. "I can't tell what's different," he murmured. "But this is it. You got him down."

"I know," she smirked, her confidence now soaring to a place it hadn't been in years. "You know what it was?"

"What?"

"You were right: It was the eyes. I was using standard headshots, press shots, magazine cover crap we grew up seeing. And given his…_winning_ personality, I thought that's all he was." She paused, shifting her gaze between Peter, Harley, and Morgan. "Those all lacked a soul. As dumb and cliché as it sounds…I needed love."

Suddenly, the room was engulfed in light streaming in from behind them. MJ, Morgan, and Peter shielded their eyes from the brightness. "It's morning?!" Morgan asked in disbelief.

"Oh yes," Pepper sounded from the door, stepping within the interior of the shed. "It's well into morning, and after I woke up to find everyone who should be in the house gone, I instantly knew where to find you." Her eyes scanned the room, and upon landing on the holo-table's projection of MJ's design, she gave a slight gasp, her hand instantly covering her mouth in astonishment.

MJ nervously approached Pepper. Though the others had all known the man, they only remembered him from the perspective of children. Above anyone else in the world, Pepper would know best if this was an accurate depiction of her husband. "What do you think?" MJ asked softly.

Pepper stepped closer to the table, eyeing it closely. "It's remarkable," she said. "I…I think there's only one thing I'd change."

MJ followed her to the table. She picked up the stylus and held it out to Pepper. "Here."

"Oh no. I couldn't. I wouldn't want to screw anything up."

"You won't," MJ assured her. Placing the stylus in her hand, she showed her how to expand, diminish, and manipulate an element and gave her free rein to change whatever she pleased. Though hesitant, Pepper immediately went for Tony's lips, evening out the upper and accentuating the lower. "There," she said with a grin, pulling back the stylus. "That's all. He's perfect."

"Think so?" the A.I. asked. "Not taller or younger or demonstrating more…girth in certain areas?"

"No," Pepper maintained warmly. "You're perfect."

Again, Peter took MJ's hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze that warmed her heart. "What happens now?" she asked Harley.

"Well, I'm thrilled to report that the worst is over. Now I will use this design to form fit to my movement model. I anticipate it taking about a week, all told. Then I can work out the motions and program micro expressions based on his video archive so that he looks as close to real as possible."

Pepper joined her daughter at her side and brought her into a side hug. "You hear that? He's going to be so lifelike!"

Morgan gave a breathy laugh and appeared stiff, seeming a bit overwhelmed and slightly unnerved at it all. "I…I can't believe it's finally happening!"

MJ asked Harley, "You're going to do that all on your own?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, "Hey, this was my idea in the first place. I gotta see it through. And trust me, you've done enough."

"Agreed," Pepper said. "It's truly astounding what you've managed to accomplish, Michelle. Be incredibly proud of yourself."

MJ locked eyes with Peter, who echoed this sentiment with his reassuring grin. Though in the course of a single night, she had gone from denouncing her artistic abilities to feeling utterly rewarded for her efforts, something still wasn't sitting right with her. Pepper broke the silence by suggesting Harley to log off and get some rest, while the others joined her inside for breakfast and then a nap of their own. Still hand-in-hand with Peter, MJ stayed in place, signaling for him to also stay behind. At his inquisitive look, she called out, "Pepper, can I ask for a moment before we head out?"

Morgan was already halfway to the house, so Pepper sent her ahead without them to set the table, then joined MJ's hastily assembled meeting comprised of the two of them, Peter, Harley, and Tony. To Harley, she insisted, "I want to see this through to the end."

"MJ," Peter said, "You sure? "

She nodded emphatically. "I'm in too deep at this point."

"You would do that?" asked Harley.

"It'd be faster for you, right?"

"Yeah!" he replied eagerly. "That way if something wasn't working or matching up, I could just have you plug in a new rendering of the reaction we're trying to simulate!"

"You'd do that?" Tony asked her earnestly.

She paused, the corners of her lips turning upward slowly into a pensive grin. "I just had an idea… it might be a lot to ask, but if we do it for Morgan, I think it'd be worth it."

* * *

Morgan opened her eyes, awakening from the first night of completely uninterrupted sleep that she had had in a long time. This was especially surprising behavior given that today was the big reveal of her father's A.I. form that very day. She rolled over in Peter and MJ's spare bed to find that her mother had already gotten up. So, she got dressed, packing the small suitcase full of the clothes and her book bag with all of her homework that she'd brought along for her week-long stay with Peter at his Manhattan apartment. Meanwhile, MJ traded with the Starks, staying in their home to finish the hologram with Harley's virtual aid. She met her mom in the living room and locked eyes with her, both of them silently acknowledging the deep sense of anticipation they both felt.

Pepper grabbed her hands in hers. "Well? How are you feeling?"

Morgan took a deep breath. "Excited, I guess." she said with a small grin.

"Nervous?"

Morgan's shoulders slouched, letting go of the facade. "Yeah. I'm _really_ nervous."

Pepper kissed the top of her daughter's head comfortingly. "Don't worry. I'm nervous too."

Peter emerged from his bedroom, grabbing his keys. "We ready? Just got word that the town car's waiting downstairs."

"I'm feeling like it would be faster if you just swung us over there!" Morgan said as they exited the apartment. She tugged on his jacket sleeve like a small child as she suggested, "C'mon, Peter. Put me in one of your suits! You know you want to!"

"Oh so what— you can web yourself in the face immediately and crash into more trees like the last time?" She wriggled away as he began tousling her hair. "Yeah, nice try. Town car will have to do."

As they boarded the elevator, Pepper said, "Hope you both don't mind, but I invited along a few friends to mark the occasion."

Peter and Morgan shared an astonished glance. "Who else is coming?" Peter asked.

It was as soon as the elevator doors opened up to the lobby that all three of them were able to catch a glimpse of two familiar faces waiting outside the apartment complex's glass doors next to a black town car.

"HAPPY! UNCLE RHODEY!" Morgan shouted, racing out the doors at top speed. She barreled into Happy, embracing him tightly. "Hey hey! You excited, kiddo?" Happy asked Morgan.

"Well now I'm even more excited that you're here!" she beamed. This was followed by a sheepish look out the corner of her eyes at Rhodey, who she still hadn't properly seen since she used his military status to divert the delivery of a high grade WMD to her house, something he was still very perturbed over. She mumbled weakly, "Hey…" Though he still appeared stern, he offered her a pat on the back as he greeted her succinctly with a firm, "Morgan."

Peter exited the building at a brisk jog, with Pepper not far behind carrying her suitcase and the one Morgan abandoned in her excitement. "Well this is a surprise!" he said. "Long time no see, guys!" He came around toward Happy, saying warmly, "It's been a minute, Hap'!"

"Yeah, yeah it has. Hey, uh…" He lowered his voice and drew closer to him. "How's your aunt? She doing okay?"

"Not returning your calls, is she?" Peter asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Happy grimaced. "No. Again."

"But still you keep trying," Peter said with a click of his tongue. "Not sure what was more traumatizing— you flirting with May, or Tony trying his luck."

Morgan perked up. "What was that?"

"Shh," Peter said while nudging her out of the way playfully. "Before your time."

"Well?" Pepper asked. "Shall we get this show on the road?"

"Yeah," Peter replied, "Only thing is that I'm not sure if we want to order another car to fit everybody. You know, in case anyone needs extra room."

Rhodey glared at Peter. "I don't know why you're looking at me—if you're implying that it's my legs or my age that requires extra space, but may I remind you just how many times I saved your scrawny ass back in the day?"

Peter scrambled to clarify, "No, no! God, no — I just…there won't be enough room for five of us plus a driver, right?"

"That's why I'm driving," Happy reported.

"But you retired, Happy!" protested Morgan. "You should be riding, not driving!"

"That's what I said, but he insisted," Pepper said, opening the door for Morgan to climb inside the rear of the car. Happy, however, rushed to take the door from her and ushered her and Peter inside while Rhodey took the front. "Ah, this feels right," Happy said upon settling behind the wheel. "Wouldn't feel like I'm traveling to see the boss without chauffeuring for his family one last time."

The drive was long but the scenery reflected the a tunnel shift of late September as they moved further and further upstate. Moreover, the company was ideal, and with Rhodey and Happy taking up the front seat, conversation was rife with memories of their days working and fighting alongside Tony, especially when Peter and Pepper would chime in from their places on either side of Morgan. Usually she would eat up these moments of idle storytelling about her dad's past, especially since she couldn't remember the last time all of these individuals were ever together in one place like this since the funeral. But instead, her mind was focused on what was about to happen. Even though she had seen the design, she wasn't certain if she was ready to see it paired with her dad's voice and mannerisms. She had frozen in place at the mere sound of the A.I. when she, Harley, and Peter had unlocked his code— she was terrified with how she might react when faced with the image of the man himself.

She began to increasingly recognize the surroundings as Happy neared the car toward her house. However, as they pulled into the driveway, it took Morgan a moment to realize the identity of the sandy-haired man sitting on the porch alongside MJ. Morgan gasped loudly, looking between Peter and her mother on either side of her for confirmation that it was true. Their grins were her confirmation.

"HAPPY, STOP THE CAR!" she shouted.

"Wha—but we're literally pulling in the drive—"

"STOP THE CAR!"

She unbuckled and climbed over Peter, who open his door despite the car still rolling to the stop. Though she tripped on her way out, she tumbled out as fast as she could toward the one and only Harley Keener who was there, at her house, in the flesh.

Upon seeing her, he rose to his feet and made his way down the steps to catch her as she came barreling into him with a hug."You're here!" she exclaimed in disbelief.

"Of course I'm here," he replied warmly.

"But when? When did you get in?"

"A few hours after you left," MJ sounded from the porch, casually leaning against the railing. "We made the arrangements the morning we finished the design, then I went to go pick him up once the coast was clear."

Morgan spun around towards the now-parked car, where Peter was helping her mother out of the backseat. "Did you know about this?" she asked her.

"Why did you think we stayed at Peter's?" she said. "We thought it'd be better to have all hands on deck in person, and Harley was able to make it work with his schedule."

"So you were here this whole time," Morgan said to Harley in amazement.

"Yep," he confirmed. "MJ and I have been hard at work all this week."

"And I'm amazed to see you both still alive," Peter said from the parked car, helping Pepper out of the backseat. "You two managed not to kill each other?"

"Oh I got close a couple off times," said MJ. She descended the stairs, passing Happy with a knowing salute and approaching her fiancé. "But he was just a little important to the cause, I guess." They kissed. Smiling, Peter asked her, "Is he ready?"

MJ's heart raced in her chest. She only nodded, nonverbally communicating to him the excitement and nerves that were coursing through her. She turned to the group of immediate and extended Stark family members. "Okay," she began. "If everyone would follow me into the house…" As she led the way, MJ could feel her own pulse in her throat. This was it. Though this project had begun as an unwanted entry straight into the most painful moments of her past, it had become her source of motivation. The completion of this task was integral to proving her abilities to herself, proving her doubters wrong, but most of all honoring her and her father by finally letting herself share his belief in her talent. And beyond these personal triumphs, it was a service to both the people she loved and had grown to love, to give them back a piece of their lives that had been cruelly wrenched away from them. She had gotten Harley's seal of approval. All that was left were the others.

Her breath was suspended in midair as she stood in the doorway to the house alongside Harley. He gave her a kind smile to assure her, muttering, "It's all you. "

She nodded, then looked at her friends, their expressions hopeful, patient, anxious, and uncertain. "I did everything I could to make it look like something you remember," she began. "Harley's coding was brilliant. It took a lot of work, but… I think we got him. I hope you think so too. Are you ready to see him?"

After an assemblage of affirmative responses and nervous laughs, MJ took a deep breath and ushered them in the living room, which had been cleared of furniture. Harley motioned to spectators to stand along the perimeter of the room, leaving MJ standing alone on the far right side of the bare floor. Four small, cylindrical projectors were placed on the floor in each corner of the ceiling like security cameras.

"Alright, Tony! Why don't you show them whatcha got?" she commanded.

Simultaneously, before tiny projectors burst to life, admitting a bright light into the center of the floor. After a quick glitch, a man appeared. It looked like a real human being had just asked astral projected into the room. The only indication that he wasn't actually there was that he was partially transparent and had only a barely noticeable discoloration. In typical Tony Stark flare, he initially appeared with his back to his waiting audience, turning slowly with his arms outstretched.

"Well?" he asked. "Don't tell me— better than you remember." MJ had remained in place, staring at this professional showboater, and marveling at just how lifelike the micro expressions she and Harley had spent days toiling over were performing. So much so that she saw his face betray the slightest bit of disappointment as his eyes scanned over the crowd. MJ then turned her sights toward the onlookers: Harley assessed his creation with a critical eye of an engineer, his mind already working through its first system upgrade. Though Rhodey's brow was furrowed, his mouth was upturned in the widest smile. Happy was utterly dumbstruck at what he was seeing. Pepper's eyes slowly filled with tears. And Peter… Peter only watched the form of his mentor for but a moment, his face regaining that youthful vigor of the boy she'd first fell in love with at 15. But once the moment passed, he looked instead to her, reflecting such a loving expression that she felt like her heart might burst with joy.

But MJ suddenly saw the reason for Tony's reaction: Morgan was nowhere to be found.

The room nevertheless came alive in exclamations of astonishment. "Can—can we got unto him?" Happy asked.

"Yes, of course!" MJ replied as she scanned the room for signs of the girl. "Go right ahead!"

Pepper walked up first, and Tony's face softened upon seeing her. Tentatively, she reached her hand out to touch his cheek. He leaned forward instinctively into her touch, but both were it dismayed that her hand went straight through the hologram, providing a bittersweet reminder that their reunion was still very much artificial. Pepper nevertheless remained beaming through happy tears. "You look incredible," she whispered.

Tony radiated with affection as he told her, "Half as much as you."

Happy was next, and Tony broke his gaze with his wife to eye his former valet up and down. "Thought you retired, Hap'. What's with the get-up?"

"Me, retire?" Happy laughed. "The work's never done."

"Not sure where that work ethic was when I was alive, but glad you've found it now." Tony's eyes then fell to Rhodey, giving him a smirk as he nonchalantly waved up and down his new form. "Well? Thoughts?"

Rhodey couldn't pass up the opportunity for some good-natured ribbing. "It looks alright I guess, but MJ— couldn't you have gone with a younger model?"

"Wanted to keep it realistic," MJ teased.

"Hmm…just saying… looks like this hologram's letting himself go. I'm seeing some flab."

Tony put his hands up defensively. "Okay—feeling attacked right out the gate, buddy. This feels a bit out of spite. Just because I'm ageless and you're suddenly Father Time—"

"Yeah, yeah," Rhodey chuckled. Sincerely, he said, "God it's good to have your smartass self back here."

"Feels good to_ be_ back," replied Tony. But MJ could see his eyes still searching for his daughter. He then made eye contact with her directly, shooting her a worried glance.

MJ caught Harley's eye and motioned with her head to follow her towards Peter in the front of the room. Her voice low, she asked, "Where's Morgan? In the flurry of activity, no one had notices that the youngest among them had somehow vanished. But it was in that moment that Pepper also had the same question: "Guys, where's Morgan?" Everyone fell silent.

"Morgan?" Tony called out to the house. No response.

"Let's try the shed," Peter said, grabbing MJ by the elbow. Together, they made their way across the lawn, Harley hot on their heels. Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey trailed behind, calling out her name from the porch and checking upstairs.

Peter noticed that the shed door was closed and went to reach for the handle, but MJ laid her hand atop his to stop him. She knocked first. "Morgan? You in there?"

She took a moment to respond, but both MJ and Peter could hear her short, stifled breaths from inside. "Y-yeah, I'm just getting something real quick. I'll just be a sec."

Harley arrived at the door just in time to hear her reply. The three exchanged skeptical glances, knowing that she wasn't "just getting" anything. '"You okay, Morg'?" asked Harley.

"Uh huh!" she replied with a forced tone. "Go back to the house—it's fine! I'll be there soon!"

Peter motioned for them to move away from the door to talk amongst themselves. Harley asked, "Was it the design? Did she hate it?"

"No," MJ reported. "I don't even thing she saw it. She was gone by the time he appeared."

Pepper briskly walked out the door and said as she approached them. "She's not anywhere in the house." Peter replied, "She's in the shed insisting everything's okay. We're not sure what to do."

With a mother's instinct, Pepper approached the door. "Honey, what's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter! I said I'll be there in a minute!"

"Just seems odd…you were so excited…"

"I still _am_, okay? Just give me a minute!"

Pepper turned back to the waiting group, giving a deep sign and a shade of her head, entirely at a loss of what to do.

Happy and Rhodey had also joined the others by then. "What's wrong?" Happy asked.

"Morgan's not coming out and is on the attack."

MJ left Peter's side to approach Pepper. "Can I try to talk to her?"

"If you can, by all means. She sometimes gets like this and shuts down, and then it's virtually impossible for anyone to get through to her."

"I think I know what she's going through." MJ proceeded to ask Peter and Harley to stay just outside the door within earshot. "In case I need to call in backup, I know she'll listen to you two," she said. She then knocked softly on the door again. "Hey Morgan?" No response. "Look, I'm not going to pretend to know how you must be feeling right now, but I know what it's like to lose your dad. You lost your hero. And for you especially. So yeah — you're scared. I know that. I don't want you to feel rushed if you don't feel ready to meet him like this. But if you want to talk, I'm here. We're all here for you."

Morgan was quiet for so long that MJ wondered if she'd somehow snuck out a window and left altogether. But at last, she heard the girl's quiet voice mutter near the door jam, "Can you come in? Just you though?"

MJ shot a quick nod at Peter, then entered slowly. Inside, Morgan was sitting just on the other side of the door against the wall, her knees tucked up against her chest.

MJ sat cross-legged on the floor just opposite her, leaving the door slightly cracked to let Peter listen in. And then she just…waited, wanting Morgan to be able to talk when she felt ready. Finally, she said, "I'm sorry I ruined your introduction."

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"I do!" she cried, her voice cracking with pent-up emotion. "I knew I'd blow it today! I don't know why I ran, but as soon as you brought him online I…I couldn't do it. And after all you and Harley did— this was all for me and I can't ever—"

"Hold up," MJ interrupted. "Yeah, this might've started as your gift, but this is also for everybody else here too. Everyone here except for me had the honor to know your dad for a significant amount of time longer than you. Think about Rhodey, his oldest friend in the world. Or Happy to have been serving him for that long? To give them the chance not only to talk to him but see the best version of him we could make? It's healing. It gave them something."

"But I wanted it so bad." Morgan paused for a moment, wiping her cheeks on her sleeve. "I just… the last thing I remember about him before this was that projection in the helmet. I remember feeling really confused— I knew he wasn't there with us but when he ended the video and disappeared, it just…didn't feel real."

MJ assured her, "That's trauma, talking, Morgan. The last time you saw him, he was saying goodbye to you. It's instinctive that you'd fear it again."

She looked up at MJ, lower lip quivering as she whispered, "You said this version isn't actually him, and I know you're right. What if this too doesn't feel real enough?"

For once, MJ was at a total loss for words. Her eyes flitted up to Peter, watching them from the doorway. He nodded and slowly opened the door.

"Morgan?" he said hesitantly, but before he could say anything else, she leapt to her feet and buried her face in his collar. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy…hey, it's okay…" he cooed as he held her close.

Harley immediately came in alongside them, laying a gently hand on her shoulder and led the sorrowful girl into his embrace. Peter fully opened the door, beckoning the others inside.

"Morg', we didn't mean to overwhelm you with this," Harley murmured. "This was supposed to be happy."

"I am happy," Morgan's muffled voice sounded from Harley's shoulder.

"Yeah, sure looks like it."

She laughed through her tear as she pulled away, sniffling as Pepper laid a comforting hand on her back. "I'm sorry," she said to all of them. "I don't know why I ran. I'm sorry I ruined it."

"Sweetheart," her mother said, wrapping her arm around her shoulder, "Nothing could ruin this day, least of all you."

"Yeah, kiddo," Happy echoed. "Nobody's upset with you at all."

"Hey, maybe' today's not the day," Peter offered. "Maybe we try another day."

"Or not at all, if you want," MJ added. "If you don't want it, everyone's had their moment with him. You can go back to what you're comfortable with."

"But you worked so hard—"

MJ considered this. "Yeah. I did. But I'm used to working hard and chucking it all away right after. An artist's job ends when they put the brush down. We don't control what happens after that."

Morgan wiped away fresh tears. "But everybody's here—when will that ever happen again?"

"Don't worry about that, Morgan," Rhodey said. "You can't base your life on the schedules of other people."

"Yeah, ever if I can't be here physically, you know I'm alway a call away," Harley reminded her.

"Yep. And I don't have a lot going on nowadays. I'll happily just…show up," Happy said, delivering some much-needed levity to the room.

"Point is," Pepper said, still holding her daughter. "We can still have an amazing day. On your terms."

"Just maybe…outside this tiny shed? That's a first step," Rhodey gently teased.

MJ ached at seeing Morgan shoulders still tense. She naturally wanted Morgan's feedback above all others, but would never sacrifice that at the sake of her comfort. But something the girl had said harkened back to a dangerous idea MJ felt she had planted in her head and needed to be rectified. She eyed the holo-table that she and Harley had pushed in the corner, seeing its familiar red interface hovering: Tony had been there the whole time.

She edged closer to Morgan, placing herself at the door before they made their way outside. "There's one last voice that I think you should hear from to know it's okay. Morgan, I was wrong. You proved me wrong. He's more than a program. And I'm sorry I ever questioned it."

"No, I know," Morgan said. "You don't need to be sorry."

"Okay," MJ said, putting her hands up. "Then I'm going to need you to just listen. Don't turn around, just…listen."

Morgan's breath caught in her chest as she realized MJ wasn't referring to listening to her own voice in the discourse, but her father's. This was confirmed as the room suddenly grew more illuminated and all eyes in the room shifted to just above her head.

"Morguna," Tony's voice gently sounded behind her. With her back to the hologram, Morgan could only stare straight ahead as her eyes filled with tears. "You know I always told you I'm here until you want me gone. I won't fight. I'm just around for as long as you need me. I can see your beautiful, smiling face every day for as long as I'm around, and that's all that counts for me. You can turn around if you want to, or if not, just say the word and I will delete this entire hologram. It's totally your call."

Her breath still tight in her chest, Morgan's eyes met her mother's who nodded encouragingly. Then, slowly, inch by inch, Morgan began to turn back toward the center of the room. MJ instinctively found and clasped Peter's hand, and he tightly squeezed hers back as the rest of the onlookers held a collective breath, waiting for the girl's response.

Her eyes were downcast until she had fully turned around, and then slowly traced up the form of the hologram until landing on her father's face. He beamed. "Hey," was all he said.

Morgan smiled the widest smile MJ had ever seen, taking a shaky intake of air as she said, "It's really you!"

"It's really me."

Peter and MJ's grip on each other's hand tightened as they watched Morgan near the hologram. He cocked his head to the side and regarded her with such pride in his eyes. For quite some time they were content to say nothing, slightly mirroring each other's movements and breathily laughing at the sheer wonder that science had allowed for them both to occupy the same space. Grinning, Morgan looked to MJ and Harley and merely whispered, "Thank you so much."

* * *

Eight more sequenced projectors out on the lawn enabled to Harley and MJ to have Tony projected on the outdoor lawn once the sun dipped behind the house and be among them that fall evening. Tony was the center of it all, bouncing between projectors to teleport back-and-forth between his loved ones in but an instant: Sharing a quiet moment with Pepper on the porch, getting into a heated debate with Rhodey, laughing alongside Happy and Morgan. It was the time with Morgan he savored the most. He walked with her by the lake to the edge of the projectors' limits and back again, simply talking and the entire time she kept her gaze fully planted on him, as though if by looking away he'd suddenly be gone.

Though MJ circulated at times throughout the evening alongside Peter, she mostly felt content to watch the hologram she designed from a lawn chair. She smiled as she saw Tony get pulled away from drinks with the cohorts he had known the longest on the porch by the "kids" to do some intense study of a piece of tech Harley and Morgan had procured from the shed. Tony frowned upon seeing it, motioning them to bring it closer to him for better inspection. He then began gesticulating wildly to tell them how to modify the device.

Peter left the group to join MJ from her vantage point. "You okay over here by yourself?"

"I'm not being antisocial, I swear, I'm just…admiring." she said, with a smile. "I'm…I'm doing great." She genuinely meant that for the first time in a long time.

Peter pulled up a chair of his own beside her and laid a hand on her knee. "I don't want you coming with me to anymore Parker Industries meetings," he said.

Even though MJ was stunned by this move, proving that Peter had taken her unhappiness with her role to heart, she scoffed, "Wait…are you firing me?"

He laughed. "Yes, Michelle. You're hereby fired."

She asked sincerely, "And what would you have me do?"

"Whatever you want," he said. "Go back to school, see the world…maybe open a holographic design ward at Parker Industries…?"

MJ chuckled, then laid her hand atop Peter's. "Thank you," she said.

"No," he replied. "Thank _you_." And MJ knew he meant that gratitude for far more than Tony's hologram.

"Hey, Pete!" cried Harley from across the lawn. "You gonna help with this egg rocket, or what? This launcher was your idea!"

Tony also shouted at him, "Peter, what that actually means is that Harley is somehow competent enough to bring me to life, yet can't figure out a basic catapult."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Gimme a sec!" Peter called back. He turned to MJ. "You wanna go shoot some eggs into the sky?"

MJ hesitated. "You go ahead. I'll be along in a bit." Peter stood and leaned down to kiss her again.

"PETE," shouted Harley, interrupting the moment. He groaned and jogged over to the impatient launch team. MJ watched them fiddle with the device for a moment, then let her eyes wander at the happiness she had had a part in creating. She wondered if there wasn't a way for her to salvage some of that within her own family. Her hand reached down to her back pocket, unlocked her phone and began typing in her mom's phone number. She took a deep breath, her thumb hovering over the green "call" icon.

Before she pressed down, she heard Morgan say, "Dad, where you going? I need you here!"

"Just a minute, Morguna. Gotta have a chat with my creator."

She looked up to see the hologram approaching her. He quickly raised his eyebrows and smiled from one side of his mouth. "Hey, AO."

"Hey, A.I.," she replied.

He stopped a few paces away, looping his thumbs around his belt loops as he too surveyed his house and all of his many loved ones surrounding him. "You done good, kid. You did way more than you ever had to."

"I wanted to," she insisted.

"Nevertheless…it's appreciated. You made some people really happy. And I hope you got something out of it too."

MJ considered this, then nodded slowly. "Yeah…I really did."

Tony paused a moment, then abruptly moved on with a quick clap of his hands as he started to pace. "So! About the first system upgrade. I'm thinking I need a casual look, but also to spice things up with some variety in the suit department… maybe Saint Laurent? I've been thumbing through their newest line in my spare time, of which I have _copious _amounts nowadays. I'm also clearly going to need to have formal wear, so I'm thinking royal blue tux? Loud, I know, but I think with my semi-transparent figure, I could pull it off. Thoughts?"

"Tread lightly, Stark. 'Cause I am totally capable of making you that tux…that will glitch out uncontrollably and suddenly turn into a toga."

He pointed at her. "That's a threat. I feel threatened." He then called to the others, "She's threatening me!"

"Hey," MJ interrupted him. She stood and looked at him earnestly. "In all seriousness, I owe you an apology."

He cocked his head to the side. "For what? I did nothing but antagonize you."

She held up her phone, showing him her impending phone call to reconnect with her mom. "You antagonized me into taking action."

Tony looked genuinely proud of her, offering a warm smile as he said, "I'll leave you to it then," and wandered back toward Harley, Peter, and Morgan. "Hey geniuses!" he called to them. "Try unscrewing it from the top. That usually results in fewer dismembered fingers, in my experience. Just a thought. Honest to god, three brilliant minds and yet not a single one with any common sense…"

Alone, MJ took a deep breath to calm her racing nerves. On the count of three, she pressed the call button and held the speaker to her ear, her pulse intensifying as she heard the dial tone once…twice…

"Hello? Michelle?"

MJ smiled. "Hey, mom."

* * *

**Thanks for reading along and suggesting these scenes, everybody! That's a wrap on this story - I loved writing and sharing it and hearing your feedback! **

**ILY3k, JJJ**


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